Riddle Inheritance
by Sheep Tails
Summary: All is not as it seems; Voldemort had a child, and now, in Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts, a Riddle returns to Hogwarts. Is Harry really Dumbledore's golden boy? Is Dumbledore as white as his beard? Non-canon after about halfway through the first book. Rating changed to M just in case swearing irks people.
1. Chapter 1

_**This is going to be a disclaimer for the ENTIRE story, so don't tell me that I forgot to review please. **_

**I do not own Harry Potter or anything or anyone from Harry Potter; it all belongs to J.K. Rowling. Well, except for my own characters of course. Hope you like it, all!**

The Death Eaters stood in silence. Their Lord was acting (though none of them would dare say so) seemingly strange. Instead of his usual speeches and torturing, he was calmly sitting, perfectly still. If it weren't for the malicious flicker in his eyes, one could almost think he was dead. Suddenly, the clock struck midnight and the Dark Lord stood, eyes now gleaming with some strange emotion. As the clock continued to toll out its deep, mournful notes, he finally began to speak.

"My followers," he said quietly, commanding all of the attention in the room. "Today… is a day of even greater triumph than I ever anticipated. I have heard, despite your efforts to hide them away, the whispers of fear in your minds. What will happen to you, should I disappear? Even amongst my Inner circle, my most trusted, I have heard rumors and breaths of worry and confusion. But… the solution to your fear has finally come, my followers. For the first time in history, a Dark Lord… has an heir."

The Death Eaters stood stunned for a moment before grasping what their Lord was telling them and bursting into raucous cheers. The Dark Lord motioned with his hand and they were instantly silent, staring with bated breath as a cloaked figure brought forth a child. They saw the child open its eyes, and many of them shuddered to see that, despite the fact that the child was obviously a newborn, it had scarlet eyes with slits for pupils. The Dark Lord smiled cruelly. For the first time in history, a dark regime was to last for two generations. For the first time in history, someone had cared enough for a Dark Lord to bear his child. For the first time in history…Voldemort felt love.


	2. Chapter 2

A cloaked figure clutched a swathed bundle to its breast fearfully as the door clashed open and a horde of merciless-looking witches and wizards burst into the room, wands raised at the sole person. The figure trembled and grasped the bundle tighter, watching as an ancient man with cold blue eyes stepped to the front of the invaders.

"Give us the child," he said. The figure shook its head violently, and the movement woke the child in the bundle. Its cries filled the empty room and the figure crooned to it softly, lulling it back to sleep. When the child's cries had ceased, the figure resumed staring at the old man, who was looking at the scene in disgust.

"You protect the spawn of a monster," he said. The figure stood ramrod-straight and hissed in fury.

"Never call her that!" a woman's icy voice spat. "She is my daughter and I will never let you touch her! You will kill her, or glamour her to make her ugly, but never would she know that I am her mother! HE might have fallen because of a mother's love for her child, old man, so imagine what the same thing can do to you!"

"Then you leave us with no choice. I give you one final chance. Hand over the child," the old man said, though the last word was twisted. "Give us the… child, and you shall not be harmed."

"Do you know who you sound like?" the woman said softly. "You sound exactly like HIM trying to convince Lily Potter to step away from her son. So I give you the same answer she gave HIM. NEVER. Kill me, by all means, but know that my mother's blessing, and the blessings of my people, will forever reside in her, no matter what you do to her. She will one day find her true heritage, you heartless old bastard, and when she does, I hope to the Mother that she gets revenge."

"Very well. You have made your choice. Have fun with Tom in Hell," the old man said, raising his wand. The figure began to chant wildly in a strange language, and a silvery glow encompassed her and her child. The old man muttered a few words and a bolt of black light flew towards them. The grey aura absorbed the spell and the mother collapsed to the ground, never to move again. The child began to cry, pushing gently against her mother's cooling hand, not understanding why her mother didn't get up. The old man looked down at the silver-swathed bundle and seemed to be deciding something. A black man with a bald head and a single gold earring looked at the child too and he seemed pensive.

"We can't just kill her," he said finally. "That would make us as bad as they are; killing a child just because its father was… You-Know-Who is as bad as killing a child just because it's Muggleborn."

"But such a risk, she is half You-Know-Who, who knows what could happen?" a woman spoke up from the back of the crowd. A man wearing somewhat ragged robes and sporting prematurely grey hair turned his head towards the woman and growled slightly.

"But she herself is still innocent," he said. "She's done nothing except have the misfortune to be born to a murderer. It'd be wrong to condemn her for her father, just as it's wrong for the Death Eaters to condemn Muggleborns for having non-magical people as parents." The old man raised a hand and the argument stopped. He gestured to the woman on the floor.

"See that she gets a proper burial. It's not her fault she got ensnared in Tom's nets," the old man said. A red-headed couple, one tall and the other stocky, headed towards the body while the old man sighed again.

"I will go place the girl with some Muggle family, I suppose, along with enough dampening charms that she will never come into her magical powers and never break the glamours on her. Everyone else, destroy this place and leave." He disappeared with a crack.


	3. Chapter 3

Lila stared at the mirror in shock. She blinked and watched as the figure in the mirror blinked at the same time. She raised one hand, then the other, and was forced to accept that the thing in the mirror was her. Not that it was ugly, just… not her. The girl in the mirror had heavy midnight hair that flowed to her waist, and through the hair poked tapered ears. But Lila barely noticed those. The girl in the mirror… her… had bright red eyes, bright red eyes that had black slits in the middle instead of round pupils. She gulped and started to reach for her hairbrush when she found herself already holding it. She looked at her hand and reached it out to put the hairbrush back. It zoomed back and Lila sat down on the floor in shock. Her mind whirled, trying to process what was in front of her, when a hoot sounded outside her window.

Her head snapped to the side and her jaw dropped when she saw an _owl _hovering outside with a _letter _tied to its _foot._ She stumbled as she rose and opened the window, letting the pure-black owl fly into the room and land on the table. It looked at her sternly (could owls look stern?) and stuck out its leg. She reached a trembling hand forward and untied the letter from its leg. The owl settled down as if for a long wait as she examined the thick envelope before ripping open the top slightly and withdrawing two sheets. She took one and looked it over, seeing that it was written in elegant cursive in a strange, silver-green ink.

_If you are seeing this, then your identity has revealed itself and you know the life you have lived is a lie. If you wish to know who you are, read the next page, but be warned: it may not be to your liking. Depending on how your false parents raised you, you might either be cunning, with an eye for personal gain, or you might be overly moralistic and will read the next page in horror and disbelief._

_In either case, note this: it is true, and should you accept what you learn, there is a puzzle within the letter. Solve it, and speak the name it reveals, and you will be returned to those that care for the real you, not the false image the old fool who removed you from your mother has cast upon you._

Lila took several deep breaths, trying to calm down. A moment later, she set down the first sheet and took up the second. She didn't particularly like the sound of the warnings, but she was curious, and the mention of a puzzle to solve and she couldn't resist pitting her mind against the one hidden within the text. She pulled out a notebook and a pen before reading through the sheet. Her breath caught and she grasped the pen tightly, thanking whatever gods that be that it wasn't a pencil, or she'd have snapped it by now.

_Daughter,_

_Before you read anything else, know that I do and always will love you. You would have grown up with me if not for the meddling of those too blind to see the light: I have no doubt that I am dead, but I know equally as certainly that your father is not completely, so read this carefully._

_Your name is not whatever blather your false parents gave you. Your name is Ilìsa, a name that my family and my people give to daughters who promise to bring great change to the world or to the people._

_You are a witch. If my suspicions are correct, the old man will have cast a series of glamours and dampening charms on you to stop you from coming into your magic, but I trust in my final spell and also the power of your father to bring you your strength anyway._

_You are not fully human. I was one of the last of my kind on this earth; I was a High Elf, also known to most wizards as Light Elves. That is a misnomer. We are not inherent supporters of that which is Light. We support that which promises us the best life; due to this often coinciding with Light, we came to be known as Light Elves. You, my daughter, are one of, if not the, last upon this earth. If there are any others left, I am a fool._

_Despite your unique heritage, you must still prove at least your mind is strong, so I have enclosed a puzzle whose answer is your father's name. If you can figure it out and speak it, the letter will bring you either to him (should his plans to return have already borne fruit) or to his most loyal allies. We have planned for them to claim being coerced into following him, so as to avoid their being sent to prison. It irked your father to have to do this, but he knew that it was an important contingency plan in case a certain prophecy came to fruition and he was not able to look after you._

_Here is your puzzle, daughter, and I wish you luck in solving it. If you inherited even a small portion of both my and your father's intelligence, you should find this simple. Good luck, my daughter, and may the blessings of Nanna be with you._

_Hidden within my ranks and my wealth,_

_My first is a man with the power of strength and of stealth._

_My name in itself is feared on its own_

_But it is with the title that it scares the full-grown._

_Its first is, by name and not looks, half of the beginning of the world and of one's worth_

_Its second is the beginning of old age and a main component of someone's mirth._

_Its third also resides in the world, and starts one's love_

_Its fourth joins the third but also at the head of a dove._

_Its fifth is part of fear and the end of strife_

_Its sixth is in mine but not in my life._

_Its seventh echoes the second and is just the same_

_Its eighth begins a way to describe blood in all but name._

_Its last is consumed by those of this island, yet still it lives in eternity_

_What is the name that has caused strife and enmity?_

Lila huffed before grinning slightly. She loved these puzzles and she was already working it out as she grabbed her notebook and started writing it out. A man with power and wealth, a king? But who would call themselves something with 'king' in it? It was pretentious and sounded tacky, so maybe lord? She wrote that down before chewing on her pencil slightly as she started to work out the letter clues. Half of the beginning of the world and worth? The only thing they had in common was the first letter, which was double-u. But only in looks, a 'w' looked like two v's, so the first letter was… V! The beginning of old age and a sound someone made while laughing was 'O'. A letter in 'world' that started 'love' was 'L'. The fourth was 'D'. She worked out each letter slowly and wrote down the full name, scratching her head slightly. She figured she didn't stand to lose anything should she be wrong, so she opened her mouth.

"Lord Voldemort." The letter in her hands glowed a blinding blue and Lila (or was it Ilìsa now?) felt a strange tug behind her navel and the next instant, her surroundings blurred into a whirling maelstrom of colours. She seemed to be flying through the air and she landed on the ground again with a rather undignified stumble. She looked at the letter in irritation before looking around. She'd just managed to register that she was in a garden when she found herself being hugged by a pale blonde woman who was nearing hysterical with joy. The woman pulled back for a moment and looked embarrassed.

"I apologize," she said. "But it has been sixteen years since we last saw you, Ilìsa, and it has been a _long _sixteen years."

"That's all right," Ilìsa said in confusion. "Um, would you mind explaining exactly what is going on? This letter did not explain much at all." She held up the letter and the woman smiled slightly.

"No, I imagine not," she answered. "Come along, dear, I'll explain as we go." They started walking, Ilìsa following the woman through the garden. "To start with, my name is Narcissa Malfoy, and you are currently walking through Malfoy Manor's garden. As I'm sure you've realized by now, you are a witch, and what that means by extension is that there is very little you cannot do. Your mother's name was Lìa, and your father's you know. Now, how best to explain this," she mused. "I suppose I must put this bluntly. Some sort of prophecy was made prompting your father to go and eliminate a threat. However, due to some sort of protection magic, his curse rebounded and to the best of our knowledge our Lord is currently in a kind of soul form. We were instructed to wait upon your arrival to begin searching for the items that bind him to the earth so as to allow him to regain his physical form. Ah, here we are."

She led Ilìsa into a large manor, where an equally-pale man looked up in interest and whose eyes widened when he saw Ilìsa. Narcissa smiled slightly at that and shook her head in amusement.

"Ilìsa, this is my husband Lucius," she said. "Lucius, wake up." The man started slightly before smiling as well and standing. He looked quite happy to see her and clapped his hands slightly.

"Finally. Now we can start working on getting the hell away from Dumbledore," he said, shaking his head. "Winny!" A short, tennis-ball eyed creature appeared, and Ilìsa surmised it was some sort of elf, judging by the huge ears. "Bring Draco here immediately."

"Right away, Master Lucius!" the elf squeaked. It disappeared with a crack only to reappear with a near carbon-copy of the Malfoys in tow. The elf bowed slightly. "I is bringing Master Draco! Is master wanting Winny to do anything else?"

"No, you may go," Lucius said. Winny disappeared again and he turned his attention to his son. "Draco, this is Ilìsa." The teen's eyes widened as well before he regained control over his expression and he extended a hand to Ilìsa, who took it and smiled a little. The two teens turned their attention to Narcissa, who was currently barely restraining herself from jumping on the spot if the look on her face was anything to go by. She clapped her hands.

"Ilìsa, we shall have to go out and get you some clothing, of course!" she said and Ilìsa suspected she was overjoyed with the prospect of dressing someone completely. Lucius seemed amused and gestured with his hand.

"You have fun," he said, bemused. He pulled out his wand. "But I think a minor glamour is in order. It would not do to have someone remark upon your eyes, Ilìsa." He waved his wand and Ilìsa felt her eyes tingle a little. "There we are. Your eyes are now the same as ours, so Narcissa can pass you off as a distant cousin or something."

"Or something," Ilìsa said, smirking slightly. She shook her head before looking up. "Apart from me being dragged shopping, what's going to happen now?" Lucius looked pensive before tapping his hand on the table and nodding decisively.

"Your father left three possible scenarios," he began. "One, you remain here for the next while and focus on your training. Two, you go to one of the distant schools for your schooling, preferably Durmstrang. Three, you disguise yourself like mad and go to Hogwarts." Ilìsa pondered this.

"I need some sort of background information," she said. "I think we all know how badly the first option would turn out, so that one is disqualified. Are there any major events happening this year that would affect the advantages of each option?" The three Malfoys seemed amused at this calculating outlook and Lucius nodded slowly.

"The Triwizard Tournament," he said eventually. "Durmstrang and Beauxbatons send delegations to Hogwarts to participate in it. If you went to either of those schools, you would probably end up on those teams and Dumbledore would find out about you."

"Well," Ilìsa send pensively. "I think that isn't actually such a bad thing. It would be bad if he knew and I was a Hogwarts student, because then I'd be under his jurisdiction and there's no telling what he might do. But if I came as another school's student, he would have no right to order me to do anything… and if he tried, I'm sure it wouldn't be too difficult to get him in trouble." Lucius snorted.

"Now that I think about it, that's true," he agreed. "So we go with this option. Would you rather go with Durmstrang or Beauxbatons? Ah, yes, background information. Durmstrang is probably around ninety-five percent male and their language of instruction is, for some reason, Russian and not Bulgarian. They have a majorly Dark reputation, and it is well-deserved; Grindelwald studied there and they teach Dark Arts as one of their classes. Beauxbatons, on the other hand, is ninety-five percent female and their language of instruction is French. Students graduating from there tend to have reputations of simpering, fashionable fools who can't cast a spell to save their lives."

"Well, I could go either way, seeing as I know both Russian and French fluently," Ilìsa observed. "If I went to Durmstrang, I might learn something useful, _but _Dumbledore would immediately suspect me. On the other hand, should I attend Beauxbatons, he would of course be shocked that _I _am at such a school, but he might suspect me less." She pondered that for a moment. "No way in hell am I going to Beauxbatons."

"Good choice," Lucius agreed, a smirk on his face. "I know the High Master of Durmstrang as well. He was, of course, one of us, but his contingency plan was to sell out three or four minor members so as to gain his scholarly position. He has much influence as Igor Karkaroff, High Master, and I daresay he will be happy to see you in his school."

"Alright, that's enough plotting for now," Narcissa interrupted. "You can all plot the downfall of your enemies a_fter _Ilìsa is properly clothed. Come along, dear, I'll lend you something until you have your own clothes." Ilìsa followed her dumbly, knowing there was no point in resisting. She had the feeling Draco was laughing quietly, but she ignored it. Within what seemed like less than a minute, Narcissa had her dressed in a shrunken version of one of her robes and she was being pulled (figuratively) through one of the most posh-looking clothing stores Ilìsa had ever seen.

It was, amazingly, only an hour later that Narcissa proclaimed that she had enough clothing, but apparently they weren't done yet. To her relief, however, it turned out they weren't heading to another clothing store or anything of the sort but rather to a bookstore.

"We might as well get your Durmstrang books," Narcissa explained. "I know Flourish keeps a set or two hidden away in the back of his store." They entered the store and Ilìsa breathed in the smell of books, smiling. She loved reading, loved gaining as much knowledge as she could. Narcissa led her to a man who was telling off an employee and the man turned, only to smile politely when he saw a Malfoy.

"Lady Malfoy," he said with a bow of his head. "Can I help you with anything this fine day?"

"I hope so, Flourish," Narcissa said, wearing her public mask of the reigning Ice Queen. "Sofia here has been visiting with us, but she needs her books for Durmstrang. Do you still have those sets of books you offered before?"

"Of course," Flourish said hastily. "Which year is needed?"

"Seventh," Narcissa said coldly. Flourish jumped slightly at her tone and hurriedly ordered the assistant to bring back the Durmstrang seventh-year text set. The man soon returned, staggering under the weight of a large number of thick textbooks. Flourish nervously shrunk them all down and told Narcissa the price. Narcissa smiled thinly. "That will do, Flourish. I am sure you know how to charge the expense. Sofia, was there any other books you needed?"

"I do not think so," Ilìsa said, putting on a mild Russian accent for the sake of appearances. Narcissa nodded and waved her wand, making the shrunken books fly into her (apparently bottomless) bag. She nodded at Flourish and the two left. Flourish wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and turned to his assistant.

"Never anger those ones, Terrence," he said quietly. "There won't be much left of you if you do."

"I wonder," Narcissa said pensively. "Ollivander wands are good, that is true, but it is said that those of Gregorovitch are better. He is retired, but I heard he sometimes does contract work if the witch or wizard promises to be chosen by an interesting wand. Yes, that is what we shall do. Come, Sofia."

Narcissa brought Ilìsa back to the manor, where she immediately set Draco about the task of making sure Ilìsa knew everything she'd need for seventh year. Luckily, Ilìsa seemed to know all the incantations, wand movements, potions, creatures, in short, everything, that Draco said. A second nature of sorts.


	4. Chapter 4

The days passed swiftly, broken only by Narcissa taking a miniscule blood sample. "For Gregorovitch," she explained. "I wrote to him and he seems vaguely interested in making a wand for you."

A week and a half later, an owl accosted Ilìsa and refused to budge until she untied the letter and parcel from its leg. It flew off quickly and she opened the letter to find it in Russian.

'_Sofia',_

_The Lady Malfoy has given this as your name, though I have no doubt it is not. The owl you received should also have brought you a parcel. In this parcel is enclosed a wand. I found myself intrigued by your… interesting history and this is the wand that I believe will choose you. If it does not, send it back to me and we shall see where I went wrong._

_Alexei Gregorovitch_

Ilìsa raised an eyebrow before cautiously unwrapping the parcel. She looked at the wand Gregorovitch had sent in interest. He seemed to have modeled it after the most ornate thing he could find; it was covered in what looked like runes and strange etchings. A note fluttered out of the wrapping and she read it. Apparently, the wand was made of birch, and that was not a wood Gregorovitch worked with often. (According to the note, birch was extremely temperamental and as a general rule no one was chosen by wands made of it.) The core was phoenix feather, which was apparently even more odd ('Never before has a wand been made of those two materials; usually, either the wood or the feather will combust if they are put together) and was eleven inches. Ilìsa took it up and was satisfied to feel a warmth run up her arm. She grinned and twirled it. Now she could get Draco back for all the jinxes he'd thrown at her during her wandless practices.


	5. Chapter 5

The students of Hogwarts waited in the Hall with bated breath, wondering when the other schools would enter and knowing it'd be a wonderful show when they did. Beauxbatons paraded through and the guys were staring after them with wide eyes, when they heard a loud thud. It came again and again in a strange rhythm, and the students of Durmstrang marched in. On every other step, they crashed their wooden staffs against the ground, making the loud drumroll echo up to the enchanted ceiling. But the most amazing thing was that while the males on the ground were crashing their staffs on the floor, a lithe figure was whirling and somersaulting through the air, balancing only off the carved heads of the staffs, while another was whirling near to the ground. The airborne figure was currently standing on one hand off one boy's staff. Then it bent its arm and launched itself upward, arcing into the air. It flipped several times before landing gracefully and grabbing a staff out of nowhere and joining in the final crash. The Hogwarts students were sitting frozen, staring with mouths agape at this acrobatic display. The Headmaster of Hogwarts himself was interested to see who it was that could perform such tricks with such ease. He peered at the figure at the back of the group of fur-cloaked students. He couldn't make out much, only that the figure was a she and had dark hair flowing to her waist. Apart from that, she appeared to be a regular student of Durmstrang. Karkaroff strode forward, his sleek fur cloak whirling behind him, and greeted him jovially. Dumbledore smiled slightly.

"Igor," he said. "I must say, that was an amazing display your students did." Karkaroff nodded in agreement.

"Yes, it was," he concurred. "It was our resident acrobat who suggested the embellishment. She is quite the jack-of-all-trades, that one. She is, as you have seen, a gymnast, along with being a very good student, and everything in between. When were you planning to bring out the Goblet?"

"Now," Dumbledore answered. Filch dragged out a casket and Dumbledore raised his arms. The Hall quieted swiftly and he smiled out at the three schools. "Welcome!" he proclaimed. "Today…"

Ilìsa fell asleep during Dumbledore's speech. Literally; she was snoozing most of the way through and only woke when the applause startled her out of her slumber. She joined in, not knowing exactly what they were applauding until her school stood and they all marched forward to drop their names in the Goblet. She felt Dumbledore's interested gaze on her and restrained the hiss that threatened to escape her. How dare he act like a benevolent grandfather, after knowingly killing her mother and leaving her with Muggles? He'd pay, he would, as soon as she figured out exactly who her father's spy here was.

She and her school quickly returned to the ship, where they all bunkered down as usual. Ilìsa had gotten a cabin to herself, since she was the only girl on board. She'd protested the fact; she didn't like the fact that she was treated differently from the others not because of her own merit but because she was a _girl_. Karkaroff had shrugged it off and Ilìsa had realized that he had other reasons that he obviously could not shout out to the world. The staff of Durmstrang knew about Ilìsa's heritage, but they'd been sworn to (major) secrecy and the students didn't know. She frowned as she heard a knock on her door and pulled it open to see her year-mate Viktor Krum standing there, scowling as usual. Correction: none of the students knew except one. Ilìsa raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"What is it, Krum?" she asked. He snorted slightly.

"Remind me to never wake you up in the morning," he said in Russian. Ilìsa smirked at him.

"Ah, heard what happened to Poliakoff, did you?" Ilìsa snickered. Krum nodded, seemingly amused.

"Oh, yes," he replied. "I don't know whether to laugh or curse you. Do you or do you not realize I have to share a room with the idiot?"

"All right, all right, come in," Ilìsa chuckled. Krum strode in (arrogant as usual) and plopped himself down on the floor cross-legged. Ilìsa snickered again as she grabbed her brush and ran it through her hair, back facing the Quidditch star. "So, Krum, apart from complaining about your charming roommate, what brings you here?" she asked, reverting to English. There was no point, after all, in speaking Russian when they weren't actually at Durmstrang. And Krum desperately needed to work on his accent. Or, as he would say, he needed to vork on his accent.

"Vat, can't I visit my little sister?" Krum retorted. Ilìsa, without turning around, threw her hairbrush backwards and heard a satisfying clunk when it hit the other's head.

"I'm only a month younger than you, and we're bloody friends, not siblings, so stop calling me that!" she said plaintively, turning around to sit beside him. Krum had immediately taken an interest in her when she had transferred to Durmstrang and admittedly that had had its benefits. Ilìsa was sure every male in the entire castle (meaning well over five hundred of them) would have been chasing her if not for the surly Bulgarian always hovering in the background. She grinned at him and put an arm around his shoulders.

"I am surprised you managed to hold your temper today," he said, amused. "I vas sure you vere going to secretly hex Dumbledore."

"Ah, but that would give the game away," Ilìsa cooed. "I want to see his face when he finds out my name."

"Vindictiff."

"I have every right to be, Viktor," Ilìsa replied, shrugging slightly. "I _know _he was the one that curtailed my magic and so he was also probably the one who killed my mother. He will pay."

"Yes. He vill. Speaking of paying, you owe me a favour for getting Alexandrov off you," Viktor reminded her. She looked at him warily.

"Yes, I do," she acknowledged. Then her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What do you want?"

"Figure out a vay to get the fangirls _off of_ _me_!" Viktor complained. "If the Slytherins are the best of the lot, I dread to think of vat the others are like!" Ilìsa sighed.

"Viktor, you already know there's only one way in hell they _might_ stop harassing you or tone it down," she said in defeat. He nodded and she huffed. "Oh, alright, fine. But I absolutely _refuse_ to act like a love-sick twit."

"That probably vouldn't vork, and besides, I'm trying to get avay from love-sick tvits," Viktor pointed out before sighing in relief. "Thank you, Ilìsa."

"You're welcome. Oh dear Merlin, I'm going to have to watch my back in the hallways now," Ilìsa shuddered. "I can see the stares of jealousy now. Why on earth do you have to be so damn famous?" Her friend snorted before shaking his head slightly.

"I'm sure no one at Hogwarts is capable of actually hitting you," he said. "Though, then again, this Potter boy seems to have garnered a reputation not only for his duelling provess but also for his Seeker skills."

"Is that so? We shall just have to make sure to prove to everyone that Potter isn't the best at Hogwarts anymore, isn't that so?"

"Yes. Remember though, you don't haff to pretend to be my girlfriend until the Tournament starts, Karkaroff doesn't vant to risk any of us being ambushed before the Cup chooses," he added. Ilìsa smiled at him.

"Rather. Now, I know you came in here to get away from Poliakoff, so you can stay."


	6. Chapter 6

A month later, everyone crowded into the Hall again as Dumbledore began pulling the names for the Tournament.

"The champion for Beauxbatons is Gabrielle Delacour!" he proclaimed. Ilìsa smiled thinly as a vapid but pretty girl, obviously with some sort of Veela blood, stood and walked out of the Hall.

"The champion for Hogwarts is Harry Potter!" Dumbledore declared. Now Ilìsa was hissing in fury as she watched an arrogant dark-haired boy strut his way out. She would make the boy pay someday. Dumbledore caught the final slip of parchment and his hand trembled visibly. Ilìsa grinned evilly at his reaction, knowing what he was about to say.

"The… champion for Durmstrang… is Ilìsa… Riddle!" he stuttered, finally managing. Ilìsa rose gracefully and stalked towards the door, but not before crossing the old man's gaze and glaring at him malevolently. He blanched slightly when he saw her eyes and she sneered slightly before whirling around and heading through the small side door. She sat down fluidly in one of the chairs and examined her competition. Gabrielle was smiling happily at being chosen, but Potter was standing in the center of the room, an arrogant smirk on his face. Ilìsa snarled slightly but cut it off when she heard voices approaching, raised in argument.

"How could you allow her into your school, Igor?" Dumbledore demanded. Gabrielle and Potter heard and stared at Ilìsa, who was sitting back in her chair, resting her head against the back with her eyes closed. She smiled when Karkaroff answered and couldn't help but chuckle at his answer.

"Do not presume, Dumbledore," Karkaroff said coldly. "She is a student who has never done anything wrong in her life. I will not have you discriminating against her simply because of her heritage."

"But Ilìsa _Riddle_?" Dumbledore asked in disbelief. "The daughter of one of the most-"

"That is enough, Dumbledore," Karkaroff said angrily. "Must you broadcast your thoughts to the entire castle? She has not done anything and I refuse to condemn her for her parentage. And you had better cease doing so as well, because as I'm sure someone has already pointed out, that makes you as bad as the man whose deeds you are currently pinning on Ilìsa." The two Headmasters walked into the room, one angry and the other just plain furious. Karkaroff walked over to Ilìsa and smiled slightly while Dumbledore glared at the two of them before walking over to Potter.

"Ilìsa," he said quietly. "You will probably have to explain your heritage. If I am not mistaken, Dumbledore is explaining it to his brat right now." They both listened in and nodded slightly. Potter jumped up from his seat and pointed an accusing finger at Ilìsa.

"You," he spat. "How dare you enter this Tournament with _him _as a father? How dare you, you, you, you monster!" Ilìsa didn't even bother opening her eyes and smiled slightly, knowing her calm attitude was infuriating the arrogant git.

"You might as well ask how I dare to live," she said disdainfully. "Watch your mouth, Potter. I do not appreciate unfounded insults. Yes, as your ever-so-kind Headmaster told you, my father did indeed orphan you. However, considering that I_,_ too, grew up without my parents, I would say we are even. I have not committed any crimes, Potter, and you would do well to remember that." She heard a rustle and sighed when someone, Potter presumably, pointed a wand to her neck.

"I would not do that if I were you," Ilìsa commented offhandedly. "You see, Mr. Potter, should you attack me, I will most certainly bring you up on charges of unfounded assault."

"No one would vote in favour of you, you scum!" Potter stated confidently. "No one would support a monster's kid."

"Such a well-refined boy," Ilìsa sighed. "Do not be so sure, Mr. Potter. I assure you I have friends with influence to make yours and the Headmaster's seem like jokes in comparison. Now kindly remove your… wand from my neck." The wand trembled for a moment before withdrawing. "Thank you. Now can we please continue with the Tournament? I did not come here to be attacked."

"Yes, Dumbly-dorr, why iz zis meeting not over yet?" Madame Maxime said, apparently having just now walked into the room. Dumbledore coughed slightly and Ilìsa guessed he still hadn't given up on getting her kicked out of the Tournament and likely tossed in Azkaban or something.

"Well, you see, Madame," he said courteously. "We have discovered something rather unpleasant about… Miss Riddle's heritage." Ilìsa snorted and Maxime seemed to be walking over to look at her.

"What are you talking about, Dumbly-dorr?" she asked. "I see nothing wrong with her."

"If she would open her eyes, I am sure you would understand," Dumbledore said. Ilìsa huffed.

"Fine, I will, _Headmaster,_" she said, sneering the title. "But know that I do so not because I am consenting to being ordered around by you but rather because I want to get going already. Excuse me for my tone, Madame, but the Headmaster and his champion have already made clear their opinions of my heritage and by extension me." She opened her eyes finally and Potter snarled when he saw them. Madame Maxime peered at her for a moment before nodding in understanding. She turned back to Dumbledore.

"Dumbly-dorr," she rumbled. "Are you truly saying zat you would refuse zis girl a place in ze Tournament because of her father? Are you forgetting your fame for giving everyone second chances?"

"Excuse me, Madame," Ilìsa said. "Mais je trouve ça non raisonnable de me donner mon deuxième chance, voyant que j'ai fait rien de mal avec mon premier." (But I find it unreasonable to give me a second chance, seeing as I've done nothing wrong with my first.)

"Yes, yes, zat iz true," Maxime said, then seemed to realize Ilìsa had spoken French. "Où a-tu appris le français, Mademoiselle Riddle?" (Where did you learn French, Miss Riddle?)

"Un certain Maître d'école m'a laissé avec les Moldus," Ilìsa said smoothly. "Je vivais en Canada, où le français est consideré aussi important que l'anglais." (A certain Headmaster left me with Muggles. I lived in Canada, where French is considered as important as English.) Dumbledore stood up, looking wounded, before Maxime glared at him. He sat down again.

"Dumbly-dorr," she said imperiously. "I do not see any reason to stop Mademoiselle Riddle from participating in zis tournament. She 'as not done anything wrong and it iz disgusting to judge 'er by looks and by 'er blood. You are outvoted, Dumbly-dorr, so do not attempt to pull rules on us."

"But the rest of the judges have not voted!" Dumbledore protested. Ilìsa sighed.

"Headmaster, had you paid close attention to the rulebook, you would have seen that according to page 31, paragraph 3, if there is an issue or question on the validity of a champion's candidacy, the vote is restricted to the three school Heads as all other judges are regional and may be unconsciously biased. Therefore, you are in fact outvoted and do not have the right to bring this issue in front of the panel."

"Davay paydom, Ilìsa," (Let's go, Ilìsa) Karkaroff said finally, after watching Dumbledore turn an interesting shade of red. "Mne hvatala idiotisma dla vsevo goda." (I've had enough idiocy for the entire year.)

"Ya saglasna, rukovoditel," Ilìsa replied, standing gracefully. (I agree, High Master.) She looked at Potter for a moment before turning back to Karkaroff. "I mne hvatala malchikov s bolshime golovame kotorie ne znayut kagda perestat govorit." (And I've had enough of boys with bigs head who don't know when to shut up.)

"Daje ochen," said Karkaroff. (Very much so.) The two Durmstrang members left swiftly, and the Beauxbatons women left soon after. Dumbledore remained in the room with Potter, one dumbfounded and the other confused, but both furious, though it was only visible on Dumbledore's face because his eyes weren't twinkling and he suddenly looked much older.

"Well, my boy," he managed. "It would appear Voldemort thought ahead."

Ilìsa followed Karkaroff, heading towards the Entrance Hall. Halfway there, though, Alastor Moody intercepted them, his magical eye whirring in every direction. He looked straight at Karkaroff, and Ilìsa remembered he was the one who nearly put the Durmstrang Headmaster away. Karkaroff seemed to be remembering this too as he was staring at Moody in undisguised loathing. Moody nodded slightly before taking out his wand and muttering a series of extremely complicated privacy spells. He looked up.

"Calm down," he said before holding up a single hand in some sort of salute. Karkaroff started.

"Of all people to impersonate, you choose Moody?" he asked incredulously. Moody (or whoever it was) nodded, smiling now. Ilìsa had to admit the real Moody would scare her somewhat if he smiled. It pulled many of his scars the wrong way.

"Yes," the false Moody said. "It was too perfect. His character is easy to imitate, and after I'd caught him, the Ministry waved off all my blathering about an attack as 'my' usual paranoia." Karkaroff was looking at him closely and his eyes widened.

"Crouch?" he asked. Moody nodded and Ilìsa's eyebrows met in confusion. Bartemius Crouch was even more of a Dark wizard-hater than Moody himself, and the only other person by that name was his son, Bartemius Crouch Junior, who had died in Azkaban. Ilìsa's brows returned to their normal places as she understood. Crouch nodded at her.

"Clever, you are," he said, grinning slightly. "Now listen close. The first task is supposed to be one of bravery and facing the unknown, but we all know that by the time it rolls around, Potter will know for sure and it is likely that Delacour will as well. So, I'm telling you."

"And Dumbledore's spell to prevent teachers from helping won't work because technically, you're not Moody the teacher," Ilìsa finished. Crouch nodded again.

"Quite. Now, the first task is a relatively simple challenge in theory. There is a golden egg hidden among a clutch of real dragon eggs. The clutch is hidden by a mother dragon, a Swedish Short-Snout, Chinese Fireball, or Hungarian Horntail. I'll leave it to you to figure out how to solve it."

"Easy," Ilìsa said with a smirk. "I'll wager a Galleon or two that the egg itself has no charms on it. One simple little summoning charm and presto! Egg in my possession."

"Now why do you think that?" Crouch asked interestedly. Ilìsa's smirk grew wider.

"Dragons are very large, very fast fire-breathing lizards," she said simply. "Everyone will expect the champions' minds to go to how to get around the dragon, not how to move the egg. And if that doesn't work, I'll just curse it in the eye until it needs a giant version of yours." Crouch barked a laugh before taking down the privacy wards and stomping away. Karkaroff shook his head slightly before walking off with Ilìsa in his wake, heading once more to the Entrance Hall. Luckily, no one else accosted them and they made it to the Durmstrang ship without any more strange encounters.

The next day, the Durmstrang students started joining the Hogwarts lessons, following the Slytherin schedules. So it was that in seventh-year Potions, Ilìsa found herself partnered with her soon-to-be 'boyfriend' and being stared at by the two Gryffindors. She muttered curse words under her breath and Viktor snorted.

"Calm down," he muttered quietly. Then his eyes glinted. "You vant to bet how fast the rumor mill surrounding me is?"

"Hell no, I like my money where it belongs, in my pocket," Ilìsa retorted. Then she sighed. "Fine. Begin." Krum snickered to himself before 'accidentally' elbowing her in the side. The Gryffindors watched with avid interest as Ilìsa elbowed him back.

"Watch your elbow, Viktor," she scolded. "You're more clumsy than Lanivov when he gets into the bottle, only with the size to actually _hurt _someone." Lanivov was the Durmstrang groundskeeper and he had an annoying habit of being drunk at all times. Krum looked mock-offended and the students seemed to be expecting him to blow up at someone who was _so _obviously beneath his station.

"Oh, but Ilìsa, I thought you liked my size?" he asked. The two Gryffindors, a bushy-haired witch and one apparently gossipy (if the quill whirring manically was any indication) dark-skinned girl, froze at this 'innuendo'. Ilìsa rolled her eyes.

"Get your head out of your ass, Viktor," Ilìsa retorted. "It currently seems to be stuck."

"Yes, I suppose I ought to get it unstuck. My head does haff much better places to be…"

"Places it will _not _be getting if you don't shut up and start actually helping me with this potion. Might as well get some use out of you."

"Apart from the one you seem to enjoy."

"Idi k chorty!" Ilìsa swore in Russian. By now, the two girls, especially the dark one, were looking faint, though the word could be used to describe a few other girls in the classroom. When the class ended, the more affected-looking ones rushed off, no doubt to tell their friends and gossip-mates about what they'd heard. Ilìsa watched them go with a morose look and her face and made sure her wand was easily accessible. Viktor chuckled at the movement.

"Explosion in three, two, one," he counted down. Just as he reached zero, they heard shrieks coming from down the hallway, echoing distantly throughout Hogwarts as girls of all ages heard about the _famous Viktor Krum_'s words and started freaking out. Ilìsa groaned as one of the closer ones began to screech imprecations and threats but headed down the hallway anyway, talking animatedly with Krum in Russian. She did her best to ignore the glares of fury the whispering girls were sending her way.

"You do realize mere innuendos aren't going to be enough to convince them?" Ilìsa asked quietly. Viktor nodded slightly and she smirked. "Eh well. As I said, might as well get some use out of this. We can't have the famous Viktor Krum not getting any in public, huh?" They headed over to a small alcove (Hogwarts really was conveniently furnished with seemingly private but still public snogging centers) and settled down, knowing they had a free period. She leaned over and kissed him full on the mouth, snorting inside when she heard the patter of feet running off and, a couple minutes later, a thunder as a large group of girls ran over to see what was going on. Ilìsa and Krum ignored the crowd they could feel watching and continued snogging. They managed to disentangle themselves after a while and rearranged their rather mussed hairdos before standing. Ilìsa sneered at the girls surrounding them when one Ilìsa had asked to make a 'demonstration', Pansy Parkinson, stepped forward with an ugly look of jealousy on her face. Krum frowned, a look emphasized by his dark countenance.

"Ilìsa, do you vant to go?" he asked, accent guttural. Ilìsa sneered further.

"You can go if you like, Viktor, it appears this little slu- I mean, _Slytherin_ has something to say to me," she replied. Krum shook his head before leaving swiftly. The girl in front of Ilìsa looked even more unflatteringly jealous as she spit out her imprecations.

"You little bitch!" she spat venomously. "I can't believe Viktor Krum would lower himself to your level. But don't worry, I'll be sure to raise him up a notch. After all, what could he possibly want with a bookworm like you?" She sneered the last sentence. Ilìsa consciously triggered the slit pupils in her eyes and looked at the girl coldly. She gulped.

"Last time I checked, it takes one to know one," Ilìsa said in disdain. "Therefore, I am most certainly not the one meant to be called a _bitch_. Now, since I have no doubt you cannot understand proper language, I will translate my message into the language you hormone-riddled chits employ. For your information, whatever the fuck your name is, Viktor is _quite_ happy where he is, and your whore-techniques won't work. I can assure you, Miss I-Get-Fucked-By-Everyone, the taunts you use on Granger do NOT apply to me. I am not, and never fucking will be, a bookworm, and you, the little slut who quite happily shows off her dubious assets in public, will never, as in, no fucking way in hell, be Viktor Krum's girlfriend. Now if you're done spewing your shit out of the cum-hole you call a mouth, I do actually have the required brain cells for NEWT level classes and if you do not get out of my fucking way in two seconds, I will be testing a few previously undiscovered curses on your sorry excuse for a body. MOVE!" The girl whimpered and ran away, tearing up, and the other girls followed, throwing hateful glares at Ilìsa. Ilìsa just laughed. She loved getting an opportunity to use her skills with swearwords. It was just too much fun to put the word 'fuck' in every sentence and still come out with a perfectly viable statement. Krum was waiting for her around the corner and they headed off to Charms, Krum chuckling the whole way at her speech.

"And I thought you haff a bad mouth in Russian," he snorted. "I vas not aware it vas possible to use that many svearvords in a single sentence, but there you are."

"Well, now you know. Ah, here we are, Charms," Ilìsa said as they walked into the classroom. Apparently gossip spread like wildfire because everyone was already whispering and throwing incredulous stares in their direction. Potter in particular looked confused, along with his red-head friend. Ilìsa snickered and figured they were probably Quidditch fans who couldn't understand why the star Viktor Krum would willingly go anywhere near such a monster as the daughter of Lord Voldemort. The red-head in particular looked horrified and Ilìsa sighed in irritation when she realized the only seats left in the class were right beside the two idiots. Krum looked just as irritated as she felt and they both sat down, though Potter immediately flared up.

"How dare you sit near us!" he hissed to Ilìsa. "This is where human beings sit, not monster spawn!"

"You can stay, though, Krum," the red-head said, glaring darkly at Ilìsa. Viktor looked angry.

"Vy, thank you ever so much," he retorted. "Because I clearly haff nothing better to do than seek your approval. But listen closely, Potter and whoever you are, stop insulting my girl. As you British say, it vill not end veil." The red-head looked furious.

"What do you mean, your girl?" he spat. "Or didn't she tell you who she is, really? A bloody monster, that's who! No one's figured out exactly how You-Know-How managed to have a kid, but there we are, with a ruddy monster walking around!" Ilìsa ignored him before deciding better of it. She looked at the two of them and plastered an emotionless mask on her face, but made sure she looked hurt underneath.

"What have I ever done to you?" she asked quietly. "What did I ever do to deserve such hatred and insults? Never in my life have I killed or tortured. Never in my life have I done anything wrong. I cannot change who my father is, Potter, just as you cannot change what he did to your parents. I cannot change the past." She pretended to stifle a sob and Viktor put a 'comforting' arm around her shoulders as she hid her face behind a dark curtain of hair. Viktor glared at Potter, who looked vaguely stricken.

"Vatch your mouth, Potter," Viktor said angrily. "It is not Ilìsa's fault that Voldemort had a child and that child happened to be her. She is innocent and I vill not let anyone hurt her."

"Yeah? Then why was she such a monster to Harry in the champions' room?" the red-head challenged. Apparently Potter had squealed. Ilìsa sniffled slightly and raised her eyes to look at Potter.

"I don't have a choice," she said sadly. "It is expected of me. He's getting stronger, Potter… and if he were to hear that I wasn't acting exactly as a proper heir must…" she shuddered, shoulders shaking. "And Karkaroff will use just about anything to get back in with him, including word of his daughter's misbehaviour…" She trailed off and faced the front of the class as Flitwick bounded in and began teaching the class. At the end, she and Krum left, leaving a very confused Potter in their wake.


	7. Chapter 7

Later that day, Headmaster's office

"Are you sure, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, eyes for once not twinkling and face serious. Harry nodded.

"I swear, she was actually starting to cry," he answered, scratching his head. "Krum looked really angry, like it was a subject they'd heard often. She said that she never did anything wrong, and that she can't change who her father is. Then Ron asked why she'd been so insulting in the champions' room and she told us that Voldemort's getting stronger and Karkaroff will do anything to get back into his good books, including ratting her out. I think it's actually true, especially after I heard what she said to Parkinson. Apparently she swore Parkinson's ears ragged when Parkinson played the jealous female about Krum. She seems to really care for him and when Ron insulted Krum through her, it was like she couldn't take it anymore." Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. It all added up, and he wouldn't put it past Tom to torture even (perhaps especially would be a better word) his own daughter for 'misbehaving'. Apparently the girl understood it as well and realized what a precarious position she was in. Dumbledore nodded slowly, the twinkle returning to his eyes as he realized, little by little, that the girl had inherited her mother's gentler traits and not her father's… other ones. Dumbledore clapped his hands.

"Well, this is quite a sorry tale," he said cheerfully. "I shall have to check her, of course, but it seems as if Miss Riddle truly is innocent."

Same time, High Master's cabin, Durmstrang ship

"Let me get this straight," Karkaroff said, rubbing at his temples. "You are convincing Potter that you are actually on his side, by acting the delicate little girl and by labelling me a grovelling worm, and at the same time intend to gain their trust."

"That's about it, yes," Ilìsa answered in amusement. Karkaroff sighed before standing up and rubbing the back of his head.

"Oh, by all means, go ahead," he said resignedly. "I'll just play the part of the terrified traitor to Snape in public view, and you go off pretending to be a bloody example of the whole 'everybody deserves a second chance' motto."

"Wonderful, now I'm off to go play bookworm in the library," Ilìsa said cheerfully, not realizing how close her tone was to the one Dumbledore was currently employing. Then again, had she realized it, Dumbledore would probably be unable to speak (for a multitude of reasons including but not restricted to a lack of a tongue, being unable to breathe enough, or being dead) permanently. Ilìsa headed to the Hogwarts library and took a large stack of books. Surrounded as she was by stacks of books at the table she was sitting at, it was only a few seconds before his arrival that she noticed Potter approaching. She looked up over the edge of her book, again playing the part of the meek female.

"Hello, Potter," she said quietly. He nodded slightly before looking around and leaning in.

"The Headmaster wants to see you at eight," he whispered. Her eyes widened and she nodded, trembling a little. He noticed and smiled in what he seemed to think was a reassuring way. It really wasn't. "It's all right. We understand your situation now." She breathed a sigh of relief before blowing a lock of hair out of her eyes. He looked amused when he registered the number of books on the table. "Merlin, you're as bad as Hermione!"

"I heard that!" the bushy-haired girl interjected, appearing around the end of a bookshelf with a towering set of books in her arms. "Wait. What?" She blindly made her way to the table and set down the tomes before dusting off her sleeves. Potter looked near to laughing and he gestured to Ilìsa.

"Look, Hermione, she's reading as much as you are," he said, chuckling. Hermione looked from him to Ilìsa in confusion before Ilìsa smiled timidly.

"Hello," she said again softly. "It's nice to meet you, Hermione Granger. Even Durmstrang has heard of you." Granger smiled proudly and at the same time managed to plaster a look of 'kindness' on her face for the 'timid' girl in front of her. Ilìsa placed a well-worn bookmark in between the pages of her book and Granger looked at the book curiously before visibly perking up.

"_The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_?" she asked. "Do you normally read this sort of book?" Ilìsa shook her head, the effort behind making the movement slow and timid killing her inside.

"No," she said meekly. "But Durmstrang's library really isn't a great place to learn about the Light. Their version of this book is called _The Triumphs and Victories of the Dark Lords. _It's a good source if you want to learn about Grindelwald and all that, but it really doesn't go into much detail about the other side's leaders. I didn't even know who finally defeated Grindelwald until last year; the books always said he 'left for parts unknown'. But then again, Grindelwald is practically worshipped at Durmstrang…" Granger smiled and nodded, chattering on and on about books and marks and essays. Ilìsa groaned inside before nodding along and squeaking slightly when she saw the clock. Potter looked amused and stood.

"Here, I'll show you the way," he said. Ilìsa smiled gratefully and they walked off through the castle. Potter looked at her curiously. "How the hell did you end up the way you are?"

"I don't know," Ilìsa said softly. "I just don't." Potter nodded and they s topped in front of a gargoyle. He stepped forward and spoke the password.

"Lemon Drops," he said clearly. Even as the gargoyle leaped aside and they walked onto the spiralling staircase, Ilìsa was suddenly reconsidering the wisdom of willingly going near a madman. Weren't passwords supposed to be _hard_ to guess, not excruciatingly obvious? Then again, maybe Dumbledore was expecting that reaction and set the most obvious password, in which case he was a fairly clever psychologist. Her thoughts were interrupted when they headed through a door. The old coot welcomed them in, sickeningly cheerful and eyes twinkling. Ilìsa sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk as Potter took the other and Dumbledore looked at them, the twinkle growing more pronounced. Ilìsa watched the sparkle level rise warily.

"Good afternoon, Miss Riddle," Dumbledore said genially, and Ilìsa smiled a little.

"Good afternoon, Headmaster," she said softly. "I apologize about before, I couldn't say anything else with my High Master around." Dumbledore waved it off, smiling now.

"It is quite alright," he said. "Now, I must admit, I am curious how you came to be the way you are." Ilìsa shook her head slightly before smiling a bit more.

"Nature versus nurture, only in this case I suppose nurture won," she said with a little smile. "As soon as I realized who I was – which wasn't explained to me for years - I also realized that the way I had to act was completely different from the real me. I received a time-spelled letter from my mother with a password-activated Portkey. The letter had a puzzle in it and the answer was the password. The Portkey took me to the Malfoys, who were quite happy to see me – apparently I'd been Draco's playmate as a toddler. We all agreed that it was probably better for my health if I went to Durmstrang than here, so off I went to Bulgaria. And… here I am," she finished, waving her hand around slightly to indicate Hogwarts in general. She looked anxiously at Dumbledore (god, the pretending was making her sick) and bit her lip before speaking again. "Headmaster… I don't want to be rude, but I need to know, do you truly not care who my father is?" Dumbledore smiled widely (her eyes were burning) at her and shook his head.

"No, my dear," he answered seriously. (Bullshit! Why'd you bloody well kill my mother and leave me with a bunch of idiots?) "Miss Riddle, you said to Harry that Voldemort is gaining strength. Would you mind telling me how you know this?" Ilìsa bit her lip again.

"I don't really know for sure," she hedged. "It's kind of a combination of things I've noticed. Karkaroff is getting extremely edgy, and he keeps grabbing his arm when he thinks no one's looking. Durmstrang students as a whole are starting to pay close attention to the Prophet for no apparent reason, though they all do so after receiving a letter from their parents. And," she looked nervously at Dumbledore, thanking both her lying skills and the fact that Grindelwald _was_ actually helping her father return, "I heard a rumor from the students whose parents are high up in Bulgaria's Ministry. I… I, well, I heard that, er, Grindelwald, he's, um, missing." Dumbledore froze before blinking at looking worried and, dare she say it, scared. He muttered to himself for a moment before looking at her closely.

"Why has no one else heard of this?" he asked. Ilìsa fidgeted nervously.

"I'm not sure, I don't know if it's true, just that the Minister's daughter was whispering about it to her boyfriend, whose father is Head of the Bulgarian Law Enforcement," Ilìsa answered hesitantly. "It could just be a lie, but Villia is a little bit airheaded, so I don't think she could have made it up." Dumbledore nodded, evidently trying to maintain his 'sage' persona. He regained his twinkle and looked happy again.

"Well, I am sure it will work out," he said cheerfully. "Now, Miss Riddle, I am glad to have cleared everything up. You may leave if you wish." Ilìsa nodded and stood, smiling at him ever-so-slightly. She couldn't help but jump, though, when the old coot's phoenix appeared in a rush of flame. Dumbledore looked amused and then curious when the bird gave Ilìsa a once-over before settling on her head. She looked up at it in interest, as did Dumbledore. She cast her mind about, not intending to brush up against the old man's defenses and alert him but curious nonetheless, and found to her surprise that his shields were down completely. She listened in closely, not even needing to press – he was practically shouting his thoughts all over the place. _What a girl. It seems my choice was the right one – after all, Fawkes would never come close to anyone who was Dark, especially not one related to Tom. It's too bad she's attached to the Krum boy, she would have made an excellent match for Potter, one that would explain any oddities any children of his might have… Hmm. It shouldn't be too hard to make her angry at Krum, especially if he was cheating on her… _She snarled in fury inside, barely managing to keep from doing so out loud, before grinning up at the phoenix and walking towards the door. He (or was it a she? Nah, probably a he) pecked her head playfully before flying off it and back to his perch. Ilìsa headed down the stairs, rubbing at her temples, and managed to walk into Krum. He steadied her and grinned slightly before falling into Russian.

"So, Ilìsa, what did he want?" he asked. Ilìsa shook her head in irritation.

"Just an explanation, but he was practically screaming his thoughts, and they weren't pretty _at all,_" she fumed. Krum looked at her worriedly.

"What is it?"

"He was plotting a way to get us to 'break up' so I could be precious Potter's," Ilìsa snarled. "I believe the last thought I heard before I left was 'especially if he was cheating on her'." Krum blinked before an evil grin crossed over his face.

"And what better way to welcome your father home than with a nice, big package of inside information?" he asked, the evil expression on his face heightened by his overall dark countenance. Ilìsa began to smile slowly.

"Indeed…" she whispered, plans forming in her mind. "The only thing is, how do we make you look like a cheating bastard without making me look like your castoff?" Krum thought about it for a moment before grimacing.

"I will have to _act_ like a cheating bastard, you will have to find me out, and hex me until I can barely move," he said, wincing at the mere thought. Ilìsa's smile turned into a Cheshire cat grin and Krum sighed. "I'll go find someone to cheat on you with now."

"Good. Make sure I accidentally catch you."

"Vonderful," he said, reverting to English as he walked away, muttering. "Getting hexed, or rather, cursed, by the bloody Dark Lord's daughter. As if I haff not enough danger in my life already…" Ilìsa snorted before walking off.


	8. Chapter 8

"How could you!" Ilìsa screamed, pointing her wand at Krum, eyes blazing a bloody red. He was a good enough actor to look both confused and guilty at the same time, though she could see the glint of amusement in his eyes, making her wonder if he was masochistic.

"I don't know vat you are talking about, Ilìsa," he said. Her wand hand trembled, seemingly out of sheer fury. The Great Hall watched avidly, mouths gaping.

"Don't bother pretending, Krum!" she hissed, making Potter shudder slightly in the corner at the sound. Apparently she sounded like her father. "Who the bloody hell do you think you are, cheating on me? You'll pay! _Densaugeo! Tarantellagra! Flipendo! Verdus!" _ Krum was now sporting amazingly long fangs, was dancing madly _upside down,_ and was a bright and sickly green. But Ilìsa wasn't satisfied with public embarrassment and whirled her wand again, sending a spell Narcissa had once taught her. It hit Krum and judging by the look on his face, he was not having fun. Apparently Narcissa had held it over Lucius' head for an entire week once, leaving the aristocrat a pale wreck by the end of it – there was no better way to attack a proud man than through the source of his precious pride. Krum would probably have to spend a while in the Hospital Wing getting his bits reattached, if Madam Pomfrey even knew the entire countercurse, or was willing to use it. Narcissa had said a lot of witches used it on their unfaithful companions and many Healers left the man to suffer for a while. Ilìsa suddenly turned away and ran off, crying a huge amount of crocodile tears. She ran to where Draco had told her about a ghost who spent a large amount of time crying and continued to sob, knowing Dumbledore would tell his Golden Boy to go and press his advantage. She was not disappointed when a few minutes later Potter appeared in the room and headed straight for her, putting a 'comforting' arm around her shoulders. She flinched before leaning into his side, hunched up into a ball and still crying. Potter awkwardly patted her shoulder.

"It'll be alright, Ilìsa," he said softly. "Just because Krum's a prick doesn't mean we're all like this." Ilìsa sobbed.

"But how am I supposed to get out of this?" she cried miserably. "Krum's Karkaroff's protégé! Karkaroff is going to blab and _then _I'll be dead!" Potter gently levered her up and hugged her. Ilìsa smothered her disgust and cried herself out on his chest. Admittedly, he wasn't that ugly, and he was actually quite muscular, but he was Harry bloody Potter. He kept his arms around her comfortingly until she managed to stop hiccupping. Then he smiled slightly.

"It'll be alright," he repeated. "I'm sure the Headmaster will have a plan." He led her all the way back to Dumbledore's office, where the old man himself was waiting. Ilìsa didn't even have to concentrate to hear the thoughts he was screaming. _Perfect._ He smiled at them sadly and gestured for them to sit down. Potter leaned forward.

"Sir, is there any way to protect Ilìsa?" he asked seriously. "She says Karkaroff will squeal about this." Dumbledore looked at her seriously.

"I see only one solution, Miss Riddle," he said gravely. "You must join the Light fully. It is the only way we can protect you far enough." Ilìsa looked up, red-eyed (more so than usual) and tearstained.

"B-but can I?" she asked, once again hiccupping slightly. "Everyone will hate me because of my father, everyone will hate me so much. If anyone else found out, they'll, they'll, I don't even know what they'd do!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. Dumbledore nodded sagely before making a steeple of his fingers, pretending to be deep in thought. He held the pose for a while before straightening, nodding as if he had an answer. He looked at Ilìsa.

"I believe, Miss Riddle, the only way to go about this is to tell everyone who you are, but also tell everyone that you support the Light," he said, still grave. "You can demand refugee status from the Ministry, which will allow you to choose a magical guardian other than the High Master during the school year. Then you will be given the decision of where to stay, so as to avoid repercussions from the other Durmstrang students." Ilìsa pondered this, or rather pretended to, and then nodded slowly. She looked at Dumbledore, eyes wide and trembling ever so slightly.

"I-I will," she said fearfully. "B-but I'm just r-really scared about how badly everyone's going to r-react, i-it's r-really s-scary." Dumbledore smiled kindly at her and patted her hand. She resisted the urge to slap him and smiled tremulously back.

"It will be all right, Miss Riddle," he said calmly. "Would you like me to make the announcement?" She shivered and nodded jerkily. "Very well. Tomorrow at breakfast, then. Best to get this over with as fast as we can."

The next morning was, pure and simple, _hell_. Dumbledore had stood up and, with no warning whatsoever, cheerfully informed the students of three countries that the Durmstrang champion was the daughter of the number one most evil person of all time. Ilìsa had sat there, head bowed in seeming fear, as everyone turned to glare at her in hate- except for the Durmstrang students and around half of the Slytherins. The day passed with hexes (most being highly unpleasant) being thrown at her back, so many that Ilìsa finally lost her temper. While she was somewhat more even-keeled than her father was, she blew up just as spectacularly – or Lucius had said, anyway, watching as his son ruefully picked himself up off the floor after attempting to prank her. Ronald Weasley had thrown a _sectumsempra_ of all spells at her back and she'd whipped around, eyes blazing.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?" she screeched. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Dumbledore looking amused, as if he'd expected her to blow up. "I'M ON YOUR FUCKING SIDE! I'M RISKING MY LIFE JUST BY ALLOWING THE HEADMASTER TO REVEAL MY FUCKING PARENTAGE, AND YOU, BEING THE COMPLETE AND UTTER PITYLESS BASTARD THAT YOU ARE, ATTEMPT TO CURSE ME WITH A SPELL THAT COULD QUITE POSSIBLY BE LETHAL!" She broke off as her temper suddenly 'broke', tears pooling in her eyes. She made her lower lip tremble as she looked up haltingly at Weasley. "What do you want me to do?" she cried pitifully. "I'm trying to be nice to everyone, I really am, but everyone hates me!" She turned around quickly and ran off, fake-sobbing yet again, though this time she ran not to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom but to an alcove on the third floor that overlooked a courtyard. She curled up, crying once more, and listened as Potter approached yet again. He sat down near her and she leaned against him, hiccupping.

"It's alright, Ilìsa," he comforted. "I know Ron, and he's honestly really immature. He never thinks anything through, so don't take this the wrong way." She sniffled and wondered vaguely how long she'd have to play Potter's huggable girlfriend. "I know how you feel, though. The Prophet kills every time they run a controversial article about me; and most of them make what these Hogwarts kids have been saying sound kind. Every time they do, everyone turns on me. Sometimes," he continued, staring out the window, "Sometimes I've actually thought about joining Voldemort. I know, I know, it sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? But at the same time… the Sorting Hat always wanted to put me in Slytherin for good reason. I can see the manipulation Dumbledore is pulling, but I don't have any allies to work against it. Voldemort may have killed my parents, but at least he was open about it. He said, I need to kill these people to survive, and he did so. The only thing is, I just don't see how I could even begin to convince Voldemort of that." Ilìsa looked up, tears disappearing. She touched against Potter's barely-guarded mind to see if he was telling the truth and found to her shock that he actually was. She sat up straight and looked him in the eye.

"Tell me how much you mean that," she ordered harshly. He looked confused but answered anyway.

"I mean it enough that if I had a choice, I would probably support the Dark over the Light," he admitted. "My magic always hated Light spells like the Patronus Charm; I'm still surprised I managed it. I remember that lesson Moody did with the Unforgivables, that was… amazing in its own way. I could _feel_ the aura, the power, of the spells, and it called to me." Ilìsa began to smile and leaned in close to his ear.

"Potter, do you really think I'm actually a weak little girl?" she breathed into his ear. "Do you really think that Karkaroff would go against me?" He started before an echoing smile began to spread across his face.

"You were planning to spy on me and Dumbledore," he breathed, eyes sparkling. She nodded – after all, she could always obliviate him. "That's brilliant. Now what?"

"We keep up our roles," she replied. "Pretend to slowly get to like each other, spy on Dumbledore together. Then, when my father returns – and he is close to doing so – you either join up immediately or continue spying." Potter nodded at this and that was how others found them an hour later, Ilìsa sitting across his lap and snoozing.

LATER

"So, Ilìsa, when's your birthday?" Harry asked. Ilìsa smiled and tried to ignore the abysmal eating habits of Ronald Weasley. The boy had slowly accepted her, though it sped up when she acted kind and caring and also when Harry announced they were 'together' – Ilìsa suspected Ronald was relieved that Harry hadn't fallen for his sister, though the sister herself was turning into a shrew because of that.

"The 31st of November, why?" she asked in response. Harry grinned at her.

"HA! I'm way older than you!" he crowed. Ilìsa slapped him absently. "Oh fine I'll shut up. Hey, um, Ilìsa, you want to go to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

"Harry, you'd think you'd have gotten confident already, but no," Ilìsa replied, working on some Transfiguration homework. "In any case, of course I'll go with you, Harry. As long as you don't mind stopping by the new pet store that opened there, I hear they've got some pretty cool animals now."

"Sure. Now wait, for this question…"

Next day

"This store scares the shit outta me," Ron commented, looking up at the new pet store. He pointed at the window. "Mainly because of _that_." True, the animals in the display were somewhat… vicious. Ilìsa and Harry walked in to explore. They both gravitated towards the snakes, though they laughed when they realized that. Ilìsa looked around.

"They're arrogant, aren't they?" she remarked. Harry nodded with a grimace. "Should we shut them up?"

"Oh hell yes."

"On three. One. Two. Three."

_SHUT UP! _Harry and Ilìsa hissed loudly together. The snakes instantly fell silent in shock.

"Do any of these interest actually interest you, Ilìsa?" Harry asked disdainfully. She shook her head.

"No. I had been hoping that the apparently dangerous snakes here would be proud and worthy of being representatives of Slytherin, but no. I leave unimpressed. Let's go, this is sickening."


	9. Chapter 9

They reappeared beside a house that while not very pretty exuded a sort of warmth that Ilìsa knew only happy homes had. Malfoy Manor was far more elegant, but most of it was cold and refined except for the actual living quarters and private studies of the residents, where it was just as warm and cheery. Ilìsa followed the others into a cramped but comfortable kitchen and smiled. Ron caught it and snarled.

"What, not good enough for you?" he growled. Ilìsa's eyes snapped to his and Vesuvia lifted her head, hissing. Ilìsa ran a soothing finger down the snake's neck and she relaxed.

"Ronald, shut your foolish mouth before even my blood isn't enough to calm Vesuvia," she said calmly. "In case you are somehow blind, I _smiled_. I smiled because this kitchen is warm and comfy and is obviously part of a happy family. So next time, think before you accuse me of being as bad as the Malfoys are in public."

"What do you mean, in public?" asked a short and stocky red-headed man, coming down the stairs. "Wait a minute, is that a Fireback Diamonskin?"

"She's a Vulcan, which is a new hybrid. I think she's unique." Ilìsa replied in amusement. "And as to the Malfoys, well, they really aren't that bad away from prying eyes. Their condescending attitude is really just a mask they present to anyone they don't trust or don't care for."

"Oh," said the man, sounding surprised. He seemed to think about it and then accept it. "I see. I'm Charlie."

"Ilìsa," Ilìsa said in reply. Vesuvia hissed quietly. "You work with dragons?"

"Yes, how could you tell?" Charlie asked in surprise. Ilìsa smiled slightly.

"Well, you have a burn scar on your arm," she pointed out. "And Vesuvia says you smell of her cousins." Vesuvia hissed again and Ilìsa lifted her off her shoulders and smiled at Charlie. "She wants to see you." He looked surprised again and took Vesuvia gently. Vesuvia coiled around his shoulders in interest and hissed. "I think she likes you." Vesuvia nodded and slithered back around Ilìsa's shoulders contentedly.

"Well, that was interesting," Arthur observed. "Let's get everyone settled, alright?" He led everyone upstairs and gestured to one door. "Ilìsa, Hermione, Percy moved out, so you two can stay in his room." The two girls walked in and found two beds in the small but comfortable room. Ilìsa sat down on one and looked around appraisingly.

"I like this place," she decided. Vesuvia agreed. She took her trunk and placed it at the foot of the bed. "There we go, all done."

"Aren't you going to unpack? I mean, how can you reach everything if it's in the trunk? Hermione asked in surprise. Ilìsa grinned and opened the trunk, turning it around to show the other girl.

"Undetectable Expansion Charm," she said simply, "Along with a few compartment spells. Besides, all the stuff in there helps conceal what I don't want people finding."

"That makes sense," Hermione said, starting to unpack her things. She waved her wand at them and they sorted themselves out. "I love magic."

"Yeah. I've noticed that the people who appreciate it the most are those who lived Muggle for a while," Ilìsa said thoughtfully. "Hard to find a pureblood-raised wizard who understands just how wonderful magic truly is." Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"How would you know?" she asked shrewdly. Ilìsa snorted.

"Hermione, I found out about my magic, let's see, what was it, about four months ago," Ilìsa said dryly. "It was a bit of a shocker to find out that not only does magic exist, but I'm the daughter of some big bad guy-"

"I heard that!" Voldemort shouted from her pocket. Ilìsa looked down at it and giggled slightly.

"-some big bad guy," she repeated, "And… yeah." She pulled the Voldemort card out of her pocket. "What?"

"Never mind," he sighed, shaking his head. "Incidentally, the main portion of me that is in a… rudimentary body, I guess you could say, has just learned from Lucius that the Quidditch World Cup, which was postponed from August, is being held in one week and a half. If you go, make sure not to be asleep after the game, they seem to be planning something."

"Seem?" Ilìsa raised an eyebrow. He grimaced.

"I'm in no shape to naysay, seeing as my 'body', if you are so generous as to call it that, can barely move a muscle," he replied dryly. "And also, expect gifts in the mail from the Malfoys. The three of them couldn't agree on what to get you so they each got something." Hermione laughed upon hearing this and Voldemort's lips twitched. "Yes, that is amusing, isn't it?"

"It is. Luckily I bought each of them a gift already," Ilìsa said. She snapped her fingers. "Right, I should probably get Nox to return from Hogwarts with me." She walked over to the window and opened it. "Nox." She closed it and sat down on the bed again. "He'll be here."

"How did you manage that, then?" Hermione asked. Ilìsa smiled, deciding to explain the concept but not give the secret.

"It's a modified Fidelius charm with a Compulsion charm," she explained. "The Compulsion charm serves to make him go wherever I am calling, while the modified Fidelius renders him invisible and soundless to all who don't know the Secret. On the bad side, though, it only worked once. We tried to make a whole bunch of owls like that and while it worked at first, it wore off and made them sick. Nox remains the only one who managed to keep it on."

"Everybody, dinner's ready!" the Weasley matriarch shouted up the stairs.

"COMING!" about seven or eight voices shouted down. There was a great clattering noise as everyone trooped downstairs. It was a bit of a squeeze in the kitchen, but they managed to fit everyone in there. Ilìsa was squished between Harry and a Weasley brother she didn't know. She looked him over and grinned slightly.

"Nice style," she said. He was dressed in some sort of dragon leather clothing, with matching boots and a fang dangling from one ear and a long ponytail. He gave her a once-over and grinned back.

"You too," he said back. "If you weren't taken, I'd be interested." His mother slapped him as she walked by with some sort of soup pot. He rubbed the back of his head, wincing ruefully. "Nice snake. I've never seen one that looks like jewels before."

"Thanks," Ilìsa replied dryly. "She's a Diamondback."

"Bill."

"Ilìsa." And they turned to the meal that had been spread out. Ilìsa tried the soup and grinned. It really was rather good. Vesuvia poked her head forward and snatched up a mouthful of it. Ilìsa turned to look at the slightly soup-covered face of the snake. "What on earth was that for?"

_It smelled good._

"Well, you could have asked," Ilìsa said, rolling her eyes. Bill looked amused.

"Are all snakes like that?" he asked. She shook her head.

"Oh no. Vesuvia is a very rare breed, and her personality is unique for sure," she answered. "Vesuvia, say hello to the nice guy." Vesuvia slapped her head with her tail before tasting the air and hissing. "Ow. She said hello." The table burst out laughing at this. Arthur in particular looked amused.

"Isn't that cute, Molly?" he asked in a stage-whisper. His wife nodded.

"Ilìsa, dear, does Vesuvia need any sort of food in particular? Oh, and while I remember, call me Molly as well," she said. Ilìsa shook her head.

"No, Vesuvia eats everything we do," she replied. "And thank you." Molly smiled and cleared away the dishes as the people slowly dispersed, though Ilìsa caught up to Fred and George. "Fred, George, how well do you know the Cholocate Frog Cards?"

"You mean the Famous Wizards ones?" they chorused. At her nod, they continued. "We know all of them."

"Right, then, how rare is this one?" She pulled out the Voldemort card and they gaped. Voldemort sneered at them and Ilìsa actually wasn't sure if it was a real sneer or just acting.

"That's the rarest one," George said, blinking. "They wanted to release it, but at the same time they were worried they'd all get murdered in their beds-"

"Highly likely," Ilìsa muttered. "Sorry, continue."

"Right, well, they were reluctant, obviously," Fred continued. "So they started destroying the few they _had_ made just in case. Then one employee decided to play a prank and sent one off. Apparently the Ministry's been going spare looking for it since _they_ have no visual record of You-Know-Who and they want one for their files."

"Where'd you find it?" George asked. Ilìsa snorted.

"Vesuvia was chasing the hopping frogs and tossed me it on the train here," she explained. "My face was probably like 'wait, what the hell?' for thirty seconds." Fred peered at the picture.

"You know, I always thought the whole snake-look we were told about was a disguise," he commented. He pointed at the picture. "And you can see it is. There's a lack of muscle movement along the cheekbones here, as if it's a mask pulled too tight or a spell slightly skewed." Ilìsa flipped the card around before Voldemort's surprised look could be seen by the twins and pretended to examine it.

"Yeah, you're right, I think," she said. "Well, that made me feel better. At least I'm not related to someone who looks like a snake's head pasted on a human neck." The twins snorted and she wisely didn't look at the picture, slipping it into her pocket.

"You always sound so against You-Know-Who," George observed. Ilìsa shrugged, taking the opportunity.

"Well, not always," she admitted. "Every now and then I'll think about it and I can see how he arrived at the conclusions he did and agree with it." She touched each of twins' mind as she waited for a response. George spoke again, examining her closely.

"Would you freak at us if we said we did that too?" he asked finally. She could feel the truth – and the understatement – echoing in their minds and she put a finger to her lips.

"Come." She led them into the room she and Hermione shared to find Hermione reading a book. She threw a look at Hermione, who shut the door after them and sat down. "Fred. George. I'm going to ask you two questions. Do you really think I'd turn against the Dark? And do you think Harry and Hermione would be such wonderful friends with me if I did? Now explain why I shouldn't erase that knowledge from your memories."

"Well," Fred started, eyes flickering around the room, "We're on your side. There's a reason we pranked so many people. Our magic is somehow naturally Dark, and pranking was the closest we could get to practising it without having everyone down on us."

"And you ought to know that Mum and Dad more or less agree with us," George added, "But can't do anything because they lack the funds to pull away from Dumbledore." Ilìsa smiled widely and pulled out the card again.

"You owe me a Sickle," she announced. The twins looked confused for a moment.

"What?" the card said. She flipped it around and showed it the twins. They gaped widely. "Do they always look that stupid?"

"That was uncalled for," Ilìsa said. "After all, they've just found out that the big bad Dark Lord is in a Chocolate Frog card. Or so it seems to them. Fred, George, it's not really that. It's just like, he's sort of connected to this picture of him so he can talk through it."

"Oh," they managed before both grinned and saluted. "Well, nice to meet you Mr. Dark Lord sir!" The room burst out laughing again, once again including the card.

"Alright, I admit I owe you a Sickle," he said, shaking his head. "What's the date?"

"The twenty-third, why?"

"You'll see." And with that, he disappeared.

"Does he always do that?" Fred asked.

"No idea. I just met him today, after all," Ilìsa snorted. "Now then, all that remains as a job for these holidays is convincing the rest of you Weasleys to switch over."

"Not going to be all that difficult, Ilìsa," Georg chimed. "Bill works with goblins, he's been slowly distancing himself for two years; Charlie works in Romania, like Dark-land, he's been doing the same; and that's really all of us but the two we're sure you want to stick with Dumbledore."

"Hm. Maybe I'll get Dad an early Christmas present."


	10. Chapter 10

Christmas morning

"ILISA! WAKE UP, IT'S CHRISTMAS!" the twins shouted, jumping onto her bed. She groaned and cracked open her eyes.

"Guys, did you check that we were decent before bursting in here?" They turned red. "I thought not. Now get out and be happy I warned you before you started throwing water on me and pulling back the sheets." They paled.

"Yeah, we're outta here, we don't want Harry pissed at us!" they stammered before rushing out. Ilìsa sat up, fully clothed in decent pajamas. Hermione smirked at her.

"You're evil."

"Thanks." They got changed into their robes and headed downstairs, where the Christmas tree they'd had so much fun decorating yesterday was crowding the sitting room with a huge pile of colourfully-wrapped presents. Everybody rushed in and Molly presided like a queen over her court.

"Right then, let's start!" she said cheerfully, picking up a red present. "Arthur, this one's for you." He opened it to find a large collection of Muggle things like extension cords, batteries, and even two calculators and a camera. He smiled widely.

"Thank you Hermione, Ilìsa," he said happily. Ilìsa grinned as he played around with it. She didn't see what was so interesting, but then she'd grown up Muggle. If a wizard wanted to play around with stuff, sure, why not? Molly dug through the pile until she found three attached boxes wrapped in green.

"Oh, these're for you, Ilìsa," she said, handing them over. She turned red, knowing the obnoxious green was from the Malfoys.

"Damn it, Draco," she muttered before opening the first one, from Draco. "FRED! GEORGE! I AM GOING TO GET THAT LITTLE FERRET AND I NEED SOME HELP!"

"Woah, sis, what's wrong?" Fred asked with a grin. She wrapped Draco's gift up.

"Harry, remind me to bring that with me onto the Express," she said to Harry, who nodded. "In case you lot were wondering, the Malfoys couldn't agree on what to get me. Draco, with his sick sense of humor, sent me stuff I'd blush at if I was Lavender." Everyone turned bright red in dawning comprehension. "Exactly. I'm going to hex him into wearing it on the Express."

"Go sis!" George cheered. "Open the others!"

"The others aren't going to be like that," she protested but opened the second one and smiled. She picked up a very elegant blue and silver dress robe. "That is more like it! Thank you, Narcissa! Hmm. That leaves this. I wonder what it is…"

"Well, open it!" Arthur encouraged. He was beginning to think the Malfoys really weren't so bad – well, apart from the young one. That gift was entirely inappropriate. Ilìsa opened it and promptly facepalmed, showing everyone the set of earrings.

"Now _that_ is very obviously from Lucius," she said crossly. "I think he has some sort of compulsive spending inherited from his father, because boy does he ever spend too much. On the other hand, they're quite pretty, aren't they?"

"Well go on, dear, put them on!" Molly said. She, too, thought the Malfoys seemed kind. Ilìsa put the earrings in and smiled.

"How do they look?"

"I think they look wonderful," Molly said. "Evidently Lucius has good taste."

"Oh, he does, but I suspect Narcissa helped him out on this one," Ilìsa said with a smile. "He's completely clueless sometimes, though don't you dare tell him I said that or he will curse me into next week. Now let's keep going, there's still a lot in that pile!" Molly handed the next one to Hermione. Hermione opened it and squealed when she found the Muggle _Inheritance Cycle _and the entire collection of Lord of the Rings, collector's edition. She hugged Ilìsa tightly.

"I've been meaning to get those, but they cost so much! Thank you thank you thank you!" she said. Ilìsa smiled and gingerly patted her back.

"Mione… can't breathe…" she choked. The other girl let her go and smiled, opening the book immediately. Molly smiled at this and tried to pick up another present.

"Oh, this one's heavy." She checked the card. "Oh, it's for me. Let's see, from Harry, Hermione, and Ilìsa," she read the tag. She looked up and smiled before opening it and beaming when she found a gleaming set of pots and pans with a huge set of seasonings. "Oh my! Where did you get these? I've never seen such perfectly made pans!"

"They're Muggle-made," Harry explained. "We found some spices we'd never heard of and threw them in for the heck of it too," he added with a smile. Molly nodded happily.

"Thank you ever so much, dears," she said, setting the cooking set aside and handing a present to Harry and Ilìsa. "This one is for you two from me and Arthur." Ilìsa grinned at Harry and they both grabbed the wrapping paper on their side and pulled. It split, revealing a bright motorbike.

"It's Sirius's," Arthur explained. Harry nodded in recognition, a bit sadly. "I fixed it up and improved it so it seats two without the sidecar. You just enlarge it when you need it. Molly made the helmets and the riding jackets, I think they're called. I'm sure Sirius would be happy to see you riding it, Harry," he finished kindly. Ilìsa wrapped an arm around Harry and smiled at the Weasley parents.

"Well, thank you both," she said, answering for Harry since he seemed to be unable. "I'm sure we'll love it." Both parents nodded understandingly and Molly continued handing out gifts while Harry recovered. The next one went to Fred and George from Ilìsa.

"A pack of Drooble's?" Fred asked, puzzled. "What?"

"It's enchanted, you dolt," Ilìsa replied. "I figured out how to undo the locking charms on the flavour and recipe and the instructions to both are in there. I figured you'd be able to develop quite a few products with the ingredient list and the flavour." They grinned and high-fived each other.

"Yeah, Ilìsa!" they cheered. "This is going to be big!" The gift exchange went on for a _very_ long time. Ilìsa came out of it with a few other gifts; from Fred and George, she received a pack of their best products, including a few that they kept 'only for close friends and family'. Surprisingly, Charlie and Bill had somehow gotten her gifts, which was surprising because she didn't really know them. She'd managed to get them gifts through Harry. Bill had opened her small package with great interest and held up the fang earring with glee.

"This is amazing!" he exclaimed, quickly exchanging it for the one he had. He showed the gleaming and deadly-looking fang earring with a hole through it to the family. "Whose is it?"

"Vesuvia's," Ilìsa replied with a laugh. "She got a cavity. And no I'm not joking. She ate too much of my treacle at Hogwarts and her fang fell out, though admittedly it's only a baby fang." Bill blanched.

"If this," he gestured to the fairly-large fang, "Is a baby fang, then what the hell is a real one? How big do Diamondbacks grow?"

"Er… Well, their close cousins, the Silverscales, appear to grow to a maximum length of two and a half meters with a thickness of six or so inches," she replied. The family paled. "…Yeah. That's why I'm carrying her on my shoulders now; I figure I might be able to get used to it before she gets too big." Charlie, too, loved his present. He opened it and held up the box with a sort of earplug at the end, confused at first.

"What is it?" he asked in confusion. Ilìsa grinned.

"You said you mostly work with Norwegian Ridgebacks, right?" she asked. He nodded. "Well, put that earpiece in and you'll be able to understand what they're saying. Not very well, mind, since I speak to snakes, not dragons, but a few words here and there you will get. Also it'll only work for Ridgebacks, since I worked out the enchantment with one of their scales, so…" Charlie had whooped.

"You should license this!" he said, holding it up. "You could earn so much."

"I already patented it, if that's what you mean," Ilìsa said with a smile. "I offered to sell it to the major dragon-handling companies, including yours, but they want a 'respectable witness'. So, if you don't mind, I'd like you to test it out." Charlie had agreed. Ilìsa opened her present from Charlie and whooped like he'd just done.

"This is awesome!" she said, holding up the glossy black dragonhide boots. "I've been meaning to get a pair, but they're so bloody expensive retail!" He nodded wisely.

"Yeah, they are," he agreed. "But I can buy them directly from the makers. There's a big Ridgeback industry close to our reserve. Every now and then they get a Horntail, that's what those are from. Also, I figured you might like the stuff they make out of the spines and teeth." Ilìsa rummaged around the box and caught sight of what he meant.

"Pretty cool," she said. "Thanks, Charlie!" He waved it off.

"After what you gave me, well," he shook his head. "It's amazing…" Ilìsa checked the last box, which was from Bill. She opened it and looked up.

"Really, Bill?" she asked. He fidgeted.

"Hey, Harry told me as much as he could about your personality and that's what I thought of when the goblins were trying to find a buyer for that," he said. "Apparently they were worried it was too Dark for the market, but I didn't think it was." She pulled out the silver ring curiously, turning it around on its side. She could _feel_ magic coming off it in waves and it was ancient. It reacted strangely to her magic and Ilìsa gasped. She looked up again.

"Bill, you have no idea what you found," she said in a quiet voice. "You're only lucky the goblins didn't realize just who wove the enchantments on this. And that they warned you not to touch it much."

"What do you mean, dear?" Molly asked worriedly. "Is it malicious?"

"Mostly, no," she replied, looking at it again. "Bill, this ring was enchanted by Slytherin himself."

"WHAT? How do you know?" Bill shouted in shock. Ilìsa waved a hand at him.

"Calm down, calm down," she muttered, peering at it closely and running a finger along the side. "First of all, the ring is in the shape of a snake that curls around the finger before raising its head. Second, the type of snake depicted is a Basilisk, which as Harry knows, unfortunately, only the Heir of Slytherin can control. Thirdly, I can feel ancient magic, powerful magic, coming off it like mad and it reacted with mine. Ergo, Slytherin. Everybody do me a favour and close their eyes just in case he added a Basilisk's eyes in here." They did so and she put the ring on.

_Do you kill with your eyes?_ Ilìsa hissed at the miniature Basilisk in question.

_Only when Master Slytherin's Heir commands it,_ it hissed back before its metal tongue flickered out. _You are Master Slytherin's Heir, but I sense one who is not who speaks the noble tongue. _

_That is my nestmate, mighty Basilisk,_ she replied to the unspoken question. _Will you obey me?_

_Yes._

_Then do not harm this family unless I command it. You may remain alive, however._ She looked up.

"You can open your eyes now," she said. They did so with relief and peered at the moving ring. "Told you so. It really is Slytherin's old ring. Apparently it kills on command. I'd take it off but I have a feeling it might not take kindly to that. But still, thanks Bill. It's a pretty epic ring even without the personality and I'm sure there are some enchantments I have yet to figure out." Bill blinked and nodded and Molly redirected the conversation, pulling up a large basket.

"Right, it's time for the sweaters!" she said cheerfully. "Everyone line up alphabetically." Everyone shuffled into place: Arthur, then Bill (she assumed they went by nickname), then Charlie, then Fred, then George, then Harry, then Ilìsa. "Ron, down here!" Ron came down and stood at the end of the line. He seemed a bit more mellow than before but still pissy. Molly handed each person in the line a hand-knitted sweater. Ilìsa looked at hers and smiled brightly. She had a vague feeling Molly was trying to warn her not to turn from her roots with the motif, anyway; it was a forest green with a silver 'I' on it. She pulled it on immediately and Fred and George whistled.

"That colour looks good on you," Fred noted. "It's odd. When you wear green with purple eyes and earrings, it looks good. When the Headmaster wears it, he looks, well, like himself. Who remembers the green robes with purple polka-dots!" Everybody raised their hands – apparently it was one of Dumbledore's favourite looks. Ilìsa noted that neither Arthur nor Molly shushed the blatant derision. Molly pulled her own sweater on and smiled at everyone.

"Well then, family, you're free to go hoard your presents," she said. Everyone rushed back to the room (Ron to get his presents) and then, gifts in hand, rushed up the stairs to their respective rooms. Fred and George followed Hermione, Harry, and Ilìsa into Percy's old room. Oddly, Bill and Charlie came too. Fred toed the door shut and muttered a quick spell at it. Ilìsa looked at the eldest Weasley children for a moment.

"This is getting repetitive," she sighed finally. "Fred, George, why don't you do the honours?" The twins bounced forward.

"Bill, Charlie-" Fred started.

"We know you've been turning Dark-"

"And we want you to know this is the gathering place-"

"For everyone like that," George finished. Ilìsa took it up, lying back on the bed.

"More or less what they said. I'm most certainly _not_ against my father – my real one – and this," she gestured to the red streaks in her hair, "Is a big charade, though admittedly it has some perks. What say you, Bill, Charlie?" They both grinned.

"We say, FINALLY!" they shouted together. Voldemort spoke from Ilìsa's pocket.

"Who's doing that idiotic shouting?" he asked irritably. They stared at the pocket in confusion. Ilìsa snorted as she pulled out the card and showed it to them.

"Guys, meet my epic communication link," she said with a grin. They both blanched before regaining their colour and grinning. Voldemort saw the grins and cut them off.

"If you're going to do the same as your brothers and salute while yelling 'nice to meet you Mr. Dark Lord sir', don't," he said sharply. They looked guilty. "Ilìsa, what's that on your finger?"

"You'll never believe what Bill found with the goblins," she grinned. "He got it for me for some reason. Look, it's Slytherin's old ring!" She showed the ring to the card, who looked at it in interest. The Basilisk wriggled to see him better.

_This makes no sense,_ it said. _You are the Master Slytherin's eldest heir, and yet you are nothing but paper. What is this magic?_

_I am currently in a very irritating state of half-life, _Voldemort said dryly. _Part of me is inhabiting this picture of me in full scare mode to communicate with my daughter._

_I see, _the ring said. _Clever. You have the locket?_

_Of course, _Voldemort replied to this, mock-offended.

_Good. Keep it with you. It will aid you when you need it most. _And the Basilisk coiled itself up and returned to its 'sleeping' state. Bill blinked.

"Do you have _any _idea how disconcerting that is?" he asked. "Your lips move, and only hissing comes out!"

"Only hissing? Hissing is no less a language than this," Harry interjected with a laugh. _Ilìsa, you sure find interesting things._

_I know I do!_

"I bet we could do that!" Fred said. He and George made random hissing noises.

"What did you just say about my mother?" Voldemort asked 'angrily'. The Weasleys paled and he turned to them. "That, Weasleys, was payback for calling me Mr. Dark Lord sir." They all broke into grins at that. Ilìsa was rolling on her bed, laughing.

"Oh that was good," she finally gasped out. She turned to Bill. "Bill. I need you to explain exactly how your parents are indebted to Dumbledore." He looked troubled.

"He's been bailing them out from bankruptcy," he said heavily. "Now that four of us kids are earning, we've managed to not need it for the past year or so, but we still owe him at least five thousand Galleons."

"Oh my," Ilìsa commented. "That is quite steep."

"Unfortunately," Bill agreed. He winced. "Dumbledore filed it with the goblins. It's gathering interest."

"That's not good," she frowned. Harry brightened considerably. "What is it?"

"Well, I am sole heir to the Potters," he said with a wink. "There's quite a bit in there. I could probably help out significantly. If not completely."

"And you, Ilìsa, could probably get into the Slytherin vault," Voldemort said suddenly. "The Gaunts thought they were bankrupt, but they never managed to get into Slytherin's vault because of the test of magical power at the entrance. If you could get past it – which I am fairly sure you can do – you could singlehandedly pay off Dumbledore without denting it, since it has been gathering interest for about nine centuries. If you go to Gringotts, they'll ask for a blood sample. Give it to them."

"Well, that solves things, but we can't do it immediately, or Dumbledore will know they took money from somewhere," Ilìsa said with a furrow in her brow.

"Unless you staged a lottery!" Fred said suddenly. "Like the one we won a few years back. It was on a much smaller scale, but still. If you made the tickets cost a Galleon each, you would easily get the five thousand back."

"You're proposing I rip off five thousand people," Ilìsa said slowly. "I like it! Fred, George, you can be the front for it, saying it's an advertisement deal you struck with a sponsor. WWW can host the lottery and you can publically draw the ticket – I can easily tamper with it to make sure you draw the right one. Then one of you two," she pointed at Bill and Charlie, "Should be the winner. I'd pick you, Charlie, because you just returned from Romania, right? You're above suspicion."

"Slytherin cunning does seem quite nice when it's planning for you," Bill remarked. "Let's go get this set up!"

"We can launch it at the same time as a new set of products!" George said suddenly. "The Drooble's info you gave us is working out nice, we have a new sort of Skiving Snackbox that's almost developed that'll be done with the gum info. It'll take a week to finish it up though."

"It'll take that long to get the lottery thing organized," Charlie reminded. "Let's go, Weasleys." The four red-heads departed, talking in low undertones. Ilìsa lay back on her bed, Vesuvia slithering to coil up on her stomach.

"That's it," she mumbled. "I'm out. Goodnight."


	11. Chapter 11

She woke up to a splash of cold water. She leaped up, spluttering, and snapped her eyes open, wand in hand already.

"WHICH ABOUT-TO-BE-KILLED ASSHOLE DID THAT?" she screeched. She caught sight of a guilty-looking Harry and lowered her wand. "Harry, you I won't kill." He looked relieved and her wand came back up. "But on the other hand, I never said this wouldn't happen!" She whirled her wand at him. "_Aguamenti glacio_!" A huge torrent of icy water hit him, disappearing as it hit the wall and the floor but leaving him sodding wet and shivering. "Ha! Now if you'll excuse me, I have to change. I look like a whore in these soaking robes. Get out, Harry. You can go change in your own room." He left sheepishly and she groaned, thanking Merlin she'd taken the Voldemort card out of her pocket as she fell asleep or he'd be done for. She pulled out clothes to wear (with the Weasley sweater) and changed quickly, muttering angrily. When she did that, she pursed her lips for a moment and sighed, twirling her wand and drying the dripping-wet robes. Ilìsa sighed again and left them on the bed before slipping the card into her pocket again.

_Come._ Vesuvia slithered onto her shoulders and she left the room for the bathroom with hairbrush in hand. She hummed absently, running the brush through her hair in front of the mirror before tying it back with one of the ribbons Parvati had given her. They really were nice ribbons, now that she thought about it. She'd picked out a ribbon that matched the sweater perfectly. Her brow furrowed when it crinkled. She pulled it down again and looked at it before picking at something white at the end. Her eyes widened when a sliver of parchment came out and the ribbon sealed itself as if nothing had been there. She looked at the strange squiggles for a moment before seeing that they looked like snakes. She fished out the card and tapped it. Voldemort sidled into the frame.

"What?" he asked irritably. She showed him the card.

"What's this say?" she said. "I can guess it's Parseltongue, but I haven't exactly learned to read it."

"You make the sound represented by the snake's movement," he said absently, running his eyes over it. "It says: My family knows that you remain loyal. We are with you. From Parvati, heiress to the Maharani Naheen. You have a friend who's heiress to Naheen?"

"Who's Naheen?" Ilìsa responded, confused. Parvati could speak Parseltongue now?

"India's version of Slytherin, I suppose you could say," Voldemort said. "She couldn't speak Parseltongue, but she developed the writing system for it that snakes can understand and write as well. I repeat my question."

"I guess, but I didn't know," Ilìsa replied, baffled. "This was in the green ribbon of a set of hair ribbons she gave me about a month ago. I was trying to avoid seeming too Slytherin so I never wore it." He nodded and thought for a moment.

"Destroy the parchment, but send her a letter in English with a message in Parseltongue at the top. Anyone who might be reading the mail will think it's Hindi or something," he said. Ilìsa nodded and as he left the picture, she tucked it into her pocket. She took her wand and burned the parchment before tying her hair up with the ribbon again and heading downstairs. In the kitchen, Molly smiled at her.

"Good morning dear," she said. "Harry was planning to go to Diagon today, as were all of the others. Are you coming?" She smiled back and nodded.

"Yeah," she said, rubbing her head. "I'm just about running out of parchment and I figure I might as well get my wand checked with Ollivander since my magic's been a bit wonky lately. It's not one of his, but he should be able to tell if everything is alright."

"It's not an Ollivander? Who made it?" Molly asked curiously. "There's only a few wandmakers in Europe."

"Yes, that's true," Ilìsa agreed with a grin. She showed Molly her wand. "Narcissa got Gregorovitch involved. He couldn't resist making a wand for someone as 'strange as me'. It packs one hell of a punch."

"It looks nice too, dear. The others are probably leaving soon, why don't you check the sitting room?" Molly suggested.

"Thanks," Ilìsa said, walking through to the sitting room, where the others were waiting. "Let's go then?" Bill nodded.

"Mum, we're going!" he shouted. Molly shouted back and they began taking the Floo by turns. Ilìsa stepped up and whirled through the fireplaces, landing in Diagon Alley. She stepped out just as Harry arrived and in time to catch him.

"I can never get the landing right," he sighed.

"That's alright, you'll figure it out eventually," Ilìsa replied. "Where are you going first?"

"Gringotts."

"Me too. I have to go prove myself to my ancestors." They walked through the doors of Gringotts and Harry approached a free goblin while Ilìsa walked to another. The goblin looked up.

"Can I help you?" it asked grudgingly. Ilìsa sighed inside.

"I hope so. I intend to pass into the Slytherin vault," she said firmly. Its eyes widened and then narrowed.

"We require a blood sample," he said nastily.

"I know," she replied calmly. "I am willing to provide one." That took the air out of its sails. He gave her a strange little knife and a bowl. She made a small cut on one finger and watched dispassionately as the blood trickled into the bowl. She saw out of the corner of her eyes that a bunch of other customers were watching as well and wondered vaguely why they found blood so enticing and yet condemned those who spilled it. The goblin seemed impressed by her silence and took the bowl just as she tapped her finger with her wand, healing it. She handed the knife back and it placed the bowl on a pedestal behind it. It started to spew a parchment with a large amount of Gobbledygook on it. The goblin read it before turning back and bowing.

"Come with me, please," it said. She followed it, now amused at how quickly its attitude changed. It led her to another room, where there was a strange altar… thing. It turned back to her. "Place your wand on the pedestal," it instructed. (Pedestal? It was an altar!) "Then stand back. If you pass, your noble ancestor will appear and give you what you need to enter their vault." The goblin stepped out of the room and she stepped forward to place her wand on the altar. (She was just going to call it that.) When it began to glow eerily, she took a few steps back. A regal figure appeared and she examined the man closely. He had black hair that was swept back into a ponytail, and a matching beard that made Dumbledore's look like shit. His eyes were a strange shade of violet, like her own at the moment, and he held in his hands both a sword and a staff.

"So you are the one who steps forward this generation," he said with a rumbling voice. "For many centuries, no one stepped forward to test themselves. They believed that their blood gave them the right to do whatever they wished, even when their power was less than that of a first-generation wizard who was never taught the ways. What is your name, child?"

"Ilìsa," she said, watching him warily. There was some power at work here and she wouldn't relax until she figured it out. He eyed her curiously.

"Is that not an elven name, child?"

"Yes, it is," she replied, still wary. "My mother was the last High Elf." He looked sad.

"The last?" he muttered. "How could this be? In my time the High Elves were strong, powerful, they lived well in the wild forests."

"My guess would be the lack of wild forests," Ilìsa said dryly. "Muggles expanded their civilization quickly. There is now just about no place on earth that is unknown to their mappers and forests, while still there, are being explored rather quickly."

"Then, child, where do wizards live?"

"You already know that," Ilìsa retorted, "Unless you did not ask that of my father, which I doubt." He chuckled.

"Correct, I know already. Now then, child, why do you seek to enter my vault?" he asked. She pondered that.

"Well, for one thing, I need to help out a family indebted to a master manipulator who will be crucial in the war that will soon come. And also, I feel pride in my heritage, and I wish to be able to say, I am Ilìsa Riddle, and I have done this. Incidentally, this is yours, is it not?" she asked, showing him the ring. He beamed.

"How did you worm it away from the goblins?" he asked incredulously. "They took it from me and hid it so deep in their vaults I could not even begin to search for it."

"They forgot what it was and sold it for a few measly coins to the eldest child of the family I spoke of," Ilìsa replied. "Apart from killing people with a glance, are there any enchantments I should know about?"

"Most I will leave you to figure out by yourself," he chuckled. "But one I will tell you. If it acknowledges someone as your 'nestmate' you would do well never to let them go." Ilìsa chuckled too.

"I don't need that one, I trust Vesuvia's judgement," she snorted, waking the snake. The snake lifted her shining head and tasted the air.

_What is this? It tastes of your blood but of air, of flesh but of nothing,_ she said in confusion. Slytherin smiled at the snake.

_You have a worthy snake as a familiar, child, _he said. _Your father, too, had a rare and powerful serpent as his guide and she guides him still. You two will do well together. Child, I accept you as my blood, I accept your power. Take the stone beside your wand and have a wandmaker incorporate it into either the end or the tip. It will allow you to enter the vault, but it will also strengthen your casting with your wand. Farewell, child, heir of my blood._ He faded and Ilìsa stepped up to the altar, where she found a sparkling, deep red stone that matched the colour on Vesuvia's scales. She took both and walked out of the room, where the goblin was.

"I passed," she said stiffly. It nodded and led her through a side door to the carts. The cart ride seemed interminable, heading so far down that Ilìsa vaguely wondered if they'd hit the Earth's core yet. The goblin stopped the cart and gestured for her to go ahead. She stepped forward and examined the regular-looking cave wall. Ilìsa looked around until she spotted a small indent in it, seemingly natural. She pressed the stone into it and with a grinding noise, the wall split to make an archway through which the Slytherin vault was visible. It really had been gathering interest for nine centuries. Ilìsa entered and looked around for a moment before reaching down and examining a Galleon. It was dated 1343. It was probably worth quite a bit by itself. She saw some newer-looking ones to the side and, conjuring a small pouch, took enough for the next year. It was easier this way. She left the vault and, one equally bad cart ride later, she was back up. She thanked the goblin and walked out of Gringotts. Ilìsa thought about it for a moment and decided to take advantage of the opportunity and so headed towards Flourish and Blotts. Inside, she scared a few clerks away merely by patting Vesuvia's head, which was funny, but kind of annoying. She browsed, taking in the dusty smell of the store with delight. By accident, she found herself in the Transfiguration section. She shrugged and picked through the books. A moment later, she heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, Ilìsa!" Parvati shouted, running up. "How are you?" Ilìsa smiled at her.

"Good," she replied. "How are you?"

"Good," Parvati said back. She spotted the green ribbon and winked. "So you finally got around to wearing green?" Ilìsa shrugged.

"Well, I liked the other colours too," she said defensively. "This one's probably my favourite though. Vesuvia enjoyed seeing it as well." Parvati nodded in understanding and smiled widely.

"Cool. Hey, I have to go, my mum's calling. I'll see you at Hogwarts!" She ran off. Ilìsa shook her head and returned to the book shelf. She found a dusty book jammed into the back and pulled it out. She flipped through in it interest before deciding it was keeper. It was a book on advanced Transfiguration theory and it would come in handy. Heading to the counter, she stumbled over a book and looked down to see a small child reading it. The little girl, probably a ten year old, looked up and her eyes widened in fear. Ilìsa smiled slightly.

"It's all right, I'm not going to hurt you, and neither is Vesuvia here," she reassured softly. "Do you want to give her a pat?" The child looked curious and nodded, so Ilìsa crouched down beside her and Vesuvia poked her head forward. The girl ran a hesitant hand along her head and smiled widely, only to giggle loudly when Vesuvia tickled her palm with her tongue. "Yes, she does that a lot. She's pretty, isn't she?" The girl nodded.

"My mum always says snakes are evil, but this one's nice,' she exclaimed. Ilìsa smiled again.

"Most snakes are nice too," she said to the girl, "But they get scared because you don't understand them telling you to go away. So the next time you see a snake, just quietly back away and it'll leave you alone." The girl nodded solemnly. "Well, I have to go. Have a good read!" She left the child looking after her with wide eyes. Ilìsa walked up to the counter and placed the book on it. The clerk turned, blanched at Vesuvia, and rung it up quickly. Ilìsa paid and smiled at him. "Thanks."

"Y-You're welcome," he stuttered, watching as the girl left, humming and stroking the snake's head. He shook his head. "Weird…"

Ilìsa pondered what to do. She could, possibly, have Gregorovitch incorporate the gem, but it would take a long time and would leave her without a wand during that time. That meant she had to go to Ollivander. She did just that, heading down the street. Her lip curled slightly at the shabby store, but then again, if he was skilled, who gave a damn what his store looked like? She walked in and the dusty air caught her by surprise. It seemed to tingle with some strange magic.

"Good afternoon," said a voice. Ollivander appeared, his great silver eyes glowing like moons through the gloom of the store. "Can I help you?" Ilìsa smiled, refusing to be intimidated.

"I hope so," she replied. "My magic has been uncertain for a little while and I wanted to make sure it hasn't affected my wand negatively. Also, I was wondering if you incorporated gems into wands." He examined her closely.

"Ah," he said, as if understanding something. "I do, if the gem is one of the focus stones. Would you like me to check if it is compatible with your wand?" Ilìsa had no doubt it was, but she handed over the gem and the wand together. Ollivander peered at the wand. "Ah, yes, a Gregorovitch creation. Strange, I had thought he retired…"

"He does contract work every now and then," Ilìsa replied to the unasked question. Ollivander nodded.

"Etched with runes of power, my, he truly did work hard on this…" he breathed. "Oh my, birch and phoenix feather. It seems you were destined to have a truly revolutionary wand, for never has one been made from these together… It is in perfect condition, truly an amazing piece." He turned his attention to the dark red gem. "This is a beautiful gem. I have only since its like once before… it is compatible with your wand. If you will wait, it will only take a few minutes." Ilìsa nodded and he bustled into the recesses of his store, from which there came some distinctly odd sounds. Ilìsa swore she heard hammering, sawing, snapping, even screeching. Ollivander returned with the wand in hand, only now its very tip had been melded with the stone so it glinted strangely. He handed the wand back. "That is three Galleons." Ilìsa paid it quickly.

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander," she said before turning on her heel and leaving. Ollivander watched her go, wide eyes staring.

"I knew she was around, but her power is growing so quickly!" he muttered to himself, turning back to his tools.

Ilìsa now had nothing left to do in Diagon Alley. She looked up at the sky and scowled at the snow, pulling her winter cloak tighter, before thinking and deciding quickly. She wanted to get Harry a snake, too, but short of the breeder in Hogsmeade, the only place to get a dangerous animal was Knockturn Alley. She cast a glamour on Vesuvia, who turned a mottled brown and black, like a regular python, and pulled up the hood of her cloak while casting charms on it, amongst them shadow, to disguise her face, sticking, so it could not be removed easily, and voice-muffler, so that could not be recognized either. Remembering the cold, she also cast a warming charm on the snake around her shoulders before ghosting along the path and turning swiftly onto Knockturn's dirty path. She descended the set of stairs and moved further down the Alley, the stores growing far more macabre and dark as she went. She spotted an animal store and stepped in, looking around. There were snarling jaguars in cages and what looked like poisonous scorpions. Ilìsa followed her ears to the reptile section, where she ended up looking in disgust at most of the snakes. Half of them were barely poisonous, and all of them were arrogant. She passed each tank, looking disdainfully at each, when a shopkeeper accosted her.

"C'n I help ya?" he asked roughly. She turned and he looked taken aback at the gaping hole of blackness in her hood.

"Perhaps," she said, voice like a man rasping. "If you have truly dangerous snakes, than yes, you could."

"Truly dangerous?" the shopkeeper scoffed, glancing at the seeming python on her shoulders, "All ya have is a little python, you ain't strong enough fer a real snake." Ilìsa ghosted forward and hissed a swearword in Parseltongue.

"This snake, shopkeeper, is not a python," she hissed angrily. "She is under a glamour because if you saw her, I would have to obliviate you or feed you to her. Now you can either accept that, and lead me to your true serpents, or I can show you, and you take me before being obliviated. Or, coincidentally, I could Imperius you. It's all the same to me." The man nodded slowly before leading her past a hidden door. She looked in approval at the unhatched eggs. "Now these are at least snakes, not worms." She drifted to the nearest one, examining its shell carefully. She cast a privacy ward on herself and Vesuvia.

_Vesuvia. Tell me who these all are._

_None of them are good enough for your nestmate except one, Master,_ Vesuvia hissed. _The silver egg. It is a strange variant of the Silverscale, one I have never seen before. It will be the best. _Ilìsa cancelled the ward and drifted around, pretending not to be interested in any of them.

"Barely passable," she said with a bored tone. "Most of these would never be suitable. This one might. How much for it?" she asked, pointing at the silver egg while examining her gloved nails as if she didn't give a damn.

"Forty Galleons," the shopkeeper said. She lowered her arm and moved as if to leave.

"Bah. I could get it elsewhere for less," she sneered. "It is barely enough, in any case. Good day." The shopkeeper looked desperate. Evidently he had very few customers that wanted a true type of snake.

"Thirty," he said. Ilìsa turned around.

"Make it twenty-five, and you have a deal," she said calmly.

"Twenty-seven."

"I keep my offer. Take it or leave it, but know that very few people would pay so much for an inferior snake," Ilìsa sneered. She saw quickly enough that the shopkeeper had no idea what the silver egg was and he sighed.

"Fine. Twenty-five." He reached into the tank and Ilìsa hissed.

"No, you fool! Do not touch the egg!" she spat. "Take the money and let me take it." She counted out the coins and pulled out the egg with her gloved hand. She slipped it into a pouch and swept out.


	12. Chapter 12

One week later

"Turn on the Wireless, would you?" Charlie said. Bill fiddled with the dials as Charlie walked up and sat down, ticket in hand. (With a bit of organizational genius, they'd assembled the raffle, and she'd implanted suggestions laced with compulsion charms in Fred and George's minds that would force them to pick out the ticket with Charlie's number on it even if they didn't know where it was.) "I want to see if I won."

"Won what, dear?" Molly asked, walking up. Charlie shrugged.

"Fred and George have a big sponsor running a raffle with a prize of five thousand, five hundred, and fifty-five Galleons," he explained. Ilìsa had chosen the strange number so that it seemed like a gimmick a businessperson would do and not like it was specifically tailored for the Weasleys' debts. "Unlikely as it is to win, what with the prize being so big, I bought a ticket. It's worth a try."

"Well, it was worth a try, Charlie dear," Molly said, sighing. Bill stood.

"Got it," he said in satisfaction. "Good luck, Charlie."

"And the biggest event – well, until this Wednesday, that is – so far is rushing to its grand finale!" the announcer boomed. "The Big Five Raffle, with the largest lottery prize in English history, is about to come to a close! If you are listening in from home, and you hear your number, stop to think about what you'll do with the money for a moment, and then apparate here to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to receive the prize! Let's welcome Fred and George Weasley, the proprietors of WWW, here to draw the lucky ticket!"

"Well, hello to you too, folks," Fred said cheerily. "Now then, my brother Forge here – oh, did I say that, my mistake – _George _is going to spin the giant sphere that holds all of those numbers, one of which is going to be one happy piece of paper! Off you go, George!" There was a great rattling sound and it slowly came to a halt.

"And now my brother Gred – I mean, _Fred_ is going to climb into this sphere – yes, I know it sounds odd, but this way we can make sure each ticket is fairly in reach! He's going to climb into the sphere and dig around for a bit before deciding which little sheet of paper is going to make a family happy!" There was a lot of cheering and you could hear Fred swear slightly as he climbed into the sphere.

"Next time you can climb in here!" Fred shouted, his voice strangely warped from the sphere. "I feel like a hamster in a hamster ball. Either that or a portent in those crystal balls."

"And a portent you are, Mr. Fred!" the announcer said cheerily. "Now dig around like a good little hamster – oops, I mean, dig around a bit and find the lucky ticket!" Molly was shaking her head at this and there was a great shuffling.

"Damn, there's a lot of tickets in here!" Fred shouted. "I can't even see you folks out there with all of these!"

"Hurry up and choose already before I run up there and spin the sphere again," a woman shouted from the crowd.

"Okay, okay, choosing," Fred said hastily, clearing his throat. "And the lucky number is: zero – six – six – two. You got that?" There was a great booing from the crowd and the announcer spoke up.

"Right-y o! The number is zero – six – six – two, folks! That's zero, six, six, two, or six hundred and sixty-two with a zero in front of it! If you're the lucky winner, come on up!" Molly sighed and turned to Charlie, who was doing a very good job acting, staring at his ticket in shock with mouth agape. Molly frowned.

"Charlie dear, are you alright?" she asked. He nodded for a moment and showed her the ticket. She promptly staggered. "Are… oh my! Bill, call your father! Charlie, go show them the ticket now!" Bill ran to the Floo (good acting…) and Charlie ran out of the house and disappeared with a crack. Molly and Ilìsa listened to the announcer.

"Well, we have apparition. Hold on, what's this? Another Weasley?"

"Oi, Charlie! What're you doing here? I thought mum was making you rest from all that dragon-taming you're vacationing from!" George shouted. Molly turned pink just as Arthur tumbled out from the Floo. They hugged each other as the radio continued.

"I have the number!" Charlie shouted with a voice trained by yelling over dragon roars. "0662! I have the ticket!" There was two quick cracks and Ilìsa assumed he apparated up to the announcer. The announcer seemed to read it.

"Well, folks, he really does! The winner of the Big Five raffle is none other than Charlie Weasley!" the announcer, well, announced. "Well, Mr. Weasley, how did this happen?" Charlie spoke, a bit breathless.

"Pure luck," he answered, probably with a grin. "I came back from Romania to take a break from dragons – the Ridgebacks are a bit feisty, I still have the scar – never mind. Anyway, Fred and George came home chattering about the raffle so I bought a ticket to shut them up. I… I can't believe I actually won!" Bill turned it off and turned to face his parents with a smile.

"Problem solved," he said with a grin. They beamed before seeming to remember Ilìsa and their smiles faltered. "Mum, Dad, you've just been had." Ilìsa bowed slightly, smiling.

"How on earth do you think I suddenly became best friends with Bill and Charlie?" she asked, smile broadening. "We had to have something in common." Their smiles returned as Charlie reappeared with Fred and George. He ran in with a card in hand.

"Dad – go to Gringotts right away and hand this to a teller and tell them to credit however much is needed to your debt," he gasped. "There should be some left and tell them to put that in the family vault." Arthur grew serious and nodded, taking the card and stepping into the Floo. The entire group, plus Harry and Hermione, who had come downstairs, waited quietly for twenty minutes. Then Arthur reappeared and rushed in, beaming again.

"Everything's paid off," he said, "And there's still about five hundred Galleons to spare." The twins high-fived each other.

"Bingo!" they shouted. Molly looked at them sharply.

"What do you mean, 'bingo'?" she asked. "Did you set the raffle up?" They shook their heads in perfect truthfulness – Ilìsa had rigged it.

"Nope. We're just happy," they chorused before dancing in a circle.

_You did well_, Harry commented, watching the Weasleys rejoice. _How are they going to stay out of Dumbledore's pocket now, though? Arthur still doesn't earn enough._

_I'm going to have the Head of the Department Arthur's in fired and him instated instead, _Ilìsa replied with a straight face. Harry gaped at her, Nachtan (the snake she'd bought for him) hissing quietly in amusement.

_How?_

_Harry. Lucius has dirt on every Ministry official __**except**__ Arthur because Arthur has no dirt in existence. It'll only take a little 'private chat' with Fudge about his 'concerns' about this and that department._

_Merlin. Is one man even supposed to have that much power?_

_It's not as much as you might think, considering that the Ministry officials probably have some sort of dirt on Lucius hidden away. He's just wise enough to guard against all of it. It's a matter of who holds what over whose head when,_ she replied wisely. Nachtan shook his head. He was a midnight-black snake with a glinting silver underbelly and green eyes that looked like Harry's.

_You are a serpent, convoluted into many knots, _he said at Ilìsa. _Even your speech is riddled._

_You are just now finding this out? _Vesuvia hissed in amusement. She was, at the moment, what Voldemort's practiced eye declared her final size. She was rather heavy, being almost two meters in length and four inches thick, but Ilìsa bore her anyway and soon got used to the weight. Nachtan was still very young as he was only a week old, but Ilìsa had no doubt he would grow to be larger than Vesuvia; he was a sort of Silverscale, after all, and Nagini was huge. At the moment, he was already almost a meter long as Vesuvia had been at a week old.

_Unfortunately. _

Later that day

Ilìsa looked at her letter and smiled. The Voldemort card, which she'd propped up nearby, looked over curiously.

"What's with the grin on your face?" he asked. Her smiled grew broader.

"Well, Lucius did invite me to the Quidditch World Cup, as you thought," she grinned. "Firstly because, I quote 'I need an alibi'-" Voldemort snorted – "And secondly because he wanted me to come along, and thirdly because, I quote once more, 'I need to be above suspicion and you, as the adoptee of Dumbledore, are very much above it'. I'm smiling because one, I get to see the Malfoys, and two, I get to get payback from Draco for giving me that awful Christmas present."

"What was so bad about it?" Voldemort asked. Ilìsa immediately shut her mouth. "You're expecting me to go off in a rage, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"I promise I won't, now tell me or I will ask Lucius."

"I doubt Lucius knows. Draco has a sick sense of humor," Ilìsa said, shaking her head angrily. "I'm lucky I managed to hide it from Harry and he doesn't know the extent of it or he would've gone and Avada'd Draco by now."

"Was it really so bad?" Voldemort sighed. Ilìsa grunted.

"Yes, it was. I mean, it's bad enough when the gossipy girl in your dorm gives you that for your birthday, but when a male friend gives you an even skimpier set for Christmas, that's just wrong!" Ilìsa exclaimed, throwing her hands up. Voldemort's eyes narrowed and she sighed. "That's what I meant. I mean come on! Who the _hell_ gives someone lingerie as a Christmas present? I've been planning on hexing Draco into wearing the stuff he sent me for ages."

"That boy is lucky I can't move right now," Voldemort growled. Ilìsa sighed.

"That's probably why he did it, dad," she pointed out. "Anyway, I have to decide whether to go with the Malfoys or the Weasleys. I'm probably going to take Lucius up on his offer, though, since the Weasleys are likely stretched thin as it is."

"Speaking of which, you may want to show me to the parents eventually," Voldemort said, lips twitching. "I heard them wondering how on earth their children knew I'd approve." Ilìsa snorted again.

"Why not now? Prepare yourself," she said dramatically, taking the card in hand before heading down the stairs. She found Molly and Arthur in the kitchen, obviously discussing just that. She grinned at them. "I've heard you, you know. So, I'm going to show you how I know you guys are approved." She propped the card up on the table. "Molly, Arthur, meet Lord Voldemort." They gaped. Voldemort sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"Is the gaping a Weasley trait or am I supposed to expect this all the time?" he asked. Arthur straightened out his features.

"I'm fairly sure it's not just us," he said wryly. "Most other people, too, would be surprised at finding a sentient Chocolate Frog card of the Dark Lord."

"I should think they would," Fred remarked, walking in, "Considering there's only one in circulation. Good morning, Dark Lord." Voldemort began to massage his temples.

"Boy, when I get back you are in trouble," he ground out. "Unless you go redeem yourself and hex Draco Malfoy to bits."

"What'd the poor boy do to anger you that much?" Molly asked. Voldemort snorted and Ilìsa hurried to explain.

"Well, he's not really _that_ angry. Anyway, he _may_ have found out about Draco's idiotic Christmas present," Ilìsa explained quickly. She looked at Arthur. "Speaking of Malfoys, the Malfoys have invited me to the Cup as well."

"Go with them, then, they're sure to have a tad more room than us," Arthur replied with amusement. "And on that note, everybody back upstairs to pack."

"SIR YES SIR!" Fred shouted before running up the stairs. The Voldemort card watched him go before turning to Arthur.

"How on earth did you survive his first few years?" he asked. Arthur shrugged.

"We had Molly's wooden spoon," he said wisely. Voldemort cracked up. Ilìsa glared at Arthur.

"Don't give the jerk any ideas. Come on, dad, I want to see if I forgot anything," she muttered, taking the still-laughing card upstairs.

Next Morning

"Okay, okay, I have everything, calm down Harry," Ilìsa rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Now let me go before I'm late because let me tell you, if I am, Narcissa will _kill_ me for leaving her alone with Lucius for any period of time." Harry sighed and let go. Ilìsa grabbed her bag, waved, and then disapparated with a muted crack.

She reappeared at the doors to Malfoy Manor, having been keyed into the wards. An elf sprung forward to take her bag and she swept forward to greet the three Malfoys, plotting what revenge would be best for Draco. She had decided to tell Narcissa. The woman was kind, but when she was angry she made Bellatrix look motherly. Ilìsa had decided there must have been some sort of curse on the Blacks that made them like this. Narcissa hugged her tightly before releasing her.

"Ilìsa, it's good to see you again!" she exclaimed. "How have you been?"

"Fairly well, Narcissa," Ilìsa replied with a smile. "And you?"

"Oh, we've been wonderful!" Narcissa said cheerfully. "How did you like your Christmas gifts?"

"Oh, yours and Lucius's were wonderful, thank you," she said, watching with vindictive glee as Draco realized what she was up to. Narcissa caught the omission.

"And what of Draco's?" she asked before catching the glance Ilìsa threw at her son. She pinched the bridge of her nose elegantly. "Draco. What. Did. You. Send. Her." He shuffled his feet.

"Er, a joke?" he tried. Ilìsa leaned in and whispered in Narcissa's ear. Narcissa's eyes widened and then narrowed to complete slits. Ilìsa and Lucius stood back as she began berating Draco right there.

"What did he send you?" Lucius commented offhandedly. Ilìsa grimaced.

"A set of skimpy lingerie." Lucius winced. "Exactly. He's only lucky Harry didn't see it or there would be no Draco at the moment. You'd also better hope _Dad_ is pleased with Narcissa's shouting or he's going to ensure that as well," Ilìsa snorted. Lucius sighed.

"How have you been communicating with your father, anyway?" he asked curiously. By this point, both were ignoring the screeching in the background. Ilìsa rummaged in her pocket and found the card, showing it to Lucius.

"He possessed the only card of him in existence," she explained. "You should have seen Arthur and Molly's faces." Lucius chuckled.

"I can imagine," he said. "Why exactly do you want Arthur boosted up?"

"The Weasleys are valuable allies," Ilìsa said, brow furrowed. "Bill trusted by goblins, Charlie able to get dragonhide extremely cheaply, the twins loved by the public – though admittedly three are… beyond abysmal. Anyway, Arthur's current job simply cannot cover the costs of having a family that large and they were bound to Dumbledore because he'd been paying off their debts for years. That's where the raffle came in and so on. Now they're in the black, but they need Arthur's job to be boosted to stay out of Dumbledore's pocket again." Lucius nodded at this.

"Well, it won't take long to get that done," he said. "Luckily, Arthur's Department Head happens to be a bit of a gambler, and he's a drinker, as well, meaning there's plenty of information on him. We'll be meeting the Minister, by the way." Ilìsa grimaced.

"Gah. He thinks I'm Dumbledore's through and through," she scowled. "My public image at the moment is a timid little girl scared of her own shadow."

"Yes, unfortunately, but it's not the worst it could be. Speaking of Dumbledore, how have you been affected?" Lucius asked, eyeing the red streaks in her hair and her eyes.

"Not that much physically, for which I am thankful," she replied. "The streaks in my hair are actually rather nice – and they're natural, so I don't have to redo them – and honestly, these purple eyes are sort of better than the red. I mean, for you," she pointed to the Voldemort card, "Red eyes work, because you're supposed to scare the bloody hell out of everyone. But for me, these eyes work better because they're honestly a rather creepy shade of violet. I'm more of shiver-and-run-away sort of persona than a oh-Merlin-I'm-going-to-die sort." Lucius chuckled.

"Yes, those eyes do actually look quite good," he agreed before looking over. Narcissa walked over, perfectly composed and collected, leading Draco, who was pink and sheepish.

"I apologize, Ilìsa," he mumbled. Ilìsa snorted.

"I forgave you a while ago," she said. "Harry hasn't." He paled slightly before rearranging his features into the perfect mask as usual. Lucius snorted slightly.

"Very well, it is time to leave," he said in exasperation, holding out a silver-backed mirror. "Here is the Portkey. Winny, bring the bags after us." As they placed their fingers on the mirror and it glowed blue, Winny the house-elf uttered a quick acknowledgement before they were whipped away.


	13. Chapter 13

The four of them landed upright, unlike the other Portkey that had arrived at the same time, where Ilìsa could see a crowd of people tangled in a heap of arms and legs. Lucius sneered at them before leading the group through a crowded campground to a rather large silver and green tent. They ducked in to find, as usual, the Malfoy type of home. Grand, spacious, ornamented. Winny appeared with the bags and scurried off to deposit them.

"Well, here we are. There are approximately three hours before the game. You can relax until then."

The game

The four of them filed into the Minister's box, where they found the Weasleys in attendance. Arthur shook Lucius's hand cordially, the two of them now on the same page. Ilìsa ended up sitting between Harry and Draco, amusingly enough, and, not so amusingly, was the one who had to hold _both_ of them back when the Veela came out.

"Damn it, Draco, you look like one of them, I know, but do you have to throw yourself over the edge?" she asked in annoyance. "Snap out of it!" Both boys blinked and resumed their seats. "Fools."

The game was quite a good one. Ilìsa was cheering for Ireland, because she had to keep up the role of hating Viktor, but whenever his head turned in the Box's direction, she grinned widely. She thought he noticed, too. She winced when the Bludger hit his nose, though. If he had a hawknose before it was nothing to what it would look like now. When he finally caught the Snitch to keep his Chasers from embarrassing themselves any longer, Ilìsa cheered, seemingly for Ireland but, to those who knew, for Krum. When the two teams walked in, she had to glare at him but settled for laughing when the Bulgarian Minister revealed he could speak English.

"You can speak English!" Fudge saint indignantly. "You've had me miming everything all day!" The Bulgarian chuckled.

"Veil, it vas very funny," he said. He looked at Harry with a grin. "Apparently, miming 'Harry Potter' is very funny as veil. I found it to be so." Harry chuckled before nodding at Fudge.

"Hello, Minister," he said cordially. "How are you?" Fudge looked surprised at this civility from Dumbledore's man.

"Very well, Mr. Potter. And how have you been?" he asked in return. Harry shrugged, upsetting Nachtan from his shoulders. The snake hissed angrily and Harry patted its head soothingly, ignoring the frightened looks he was getting from half the people in the box.

"Good as well, Minister," he replied. He looked at the others. "Is something wrong with my face?" Lucius intervened.

"Mr. Potter, it is probably referring to the angry serpent on your shoulders," he interjected smoothly. Nice save, Lucius. Harry nodded at this.

"Oh. Thanks for clearing that up, Mr. Malfoy," he replied, turning back to the other people. "It's perfectly alright, Nachtan has yet to hurt a fly. And you should have seen Vesuvia eating soup. It was hilarious." It was true – Nachtan hadn't hurt any flies: he'd hurt much larger stuff. Nevertheless, everyone relaxed. The Ministry officials presented the Irish team with the Cup and that was that. As they filed past Krum, who was having his nose examined, Ilìsa spoke quietly.

"Well played, Krum," she whispered in Russian. Viktor's dark eye swivelled to face her. "It's not your fault your Chasers and Keeper weren't good enough." She departed before anyone could notice her, following the Malfoys. Back at the tent, Lucius sighed.

"That game went on longer than expected," he admitted. "That will throw things off. Draco, Ilìsa, stay awake and play along; come out and 'fight'." That was all he said before sweeping off. The two teens shrugged at each other and lounged about on the couches.

"So, Ilìsa, how badly sickened were you when Dumbledore offered to adopt you?" Draco asked. Ilìsa snorted.

"Well, I was in the Hospital Wing soon after," she mocked. "No, but really, if it weren't for the opportunities this presented, I would have found a way to refuse like getting kidnapped or something."

"Well, by looks I'd say it somehow managed to be an improvement," Draco drawled. Ilìsa sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

"True. I probably would have gotten this sort of highlights myself," she admitted, "And the purple eyes fit me better than the red. The main thing is, however, is that I can cast the Patronus now."

"What form does it take?" Draco asked curiously. Ilìsa pulled out her wand and cast the Patronus, watching the mist solidify quickly into a shining version of Vesuvia. "Well that wasn't so surprising. I-" he was cut off by shouts and screams from somewhere outside the tent. They exchanged a glance and stood swiftly.

"Off we go," Ilìsa muttered as they rushed out of the tent and looked around. She saw a crowd of hooded and masked people levitating some Muggles and slapped herself on the forehead. "Damn it, I cannot believe they planned this. Draco, let's follow orders, huh? Wands out." Draco drew his wand as well and they headed towards the crowd cautiously, Ilìsa starting to mutter expletives in Parseltongue. They made it to where the Ministry was engaging the wizards and joined in as the Weasleys and Harry joined up as well. Ilìsa ducked a Killing Curse and somehow doubted it was the Death Eaters'. For that was obviously who they were; their skull-style masks gave it away. The Muggles fell and she shot off a well-aimed cushioning charm, letting them land limply, where Ministry wizards took care of them. She turned back to the battle with a few jabs of her wand, making a few of the Death Eaters stumble and fall. They seemed to realize they were outnumbered because they started disapparating. Within moments there were none left and Lucius rushed over, looking as if he had participated in the fight.

"Is everyone all right?" he asked. "Ilìsa, that curse nearly hit you!" Aurors rushed up, hearing him say that line worriedly.

"Mr. Malfoy, were you engaged in this fight?" one asked as if suspicious – it looked like Ilìsa's story had circulated. He gave them a look that quite plainly expressed his answer.

"Do you think I would be standing here, looking like I was dodging spells, for any other reason?" he asked archly. The Auror blanched and turned to Ilìsa, recognizing her as Dumbledore's adoptee.

"You can vouch for their being here?" he asked, gesturing to the Malfoys. She nodded.

"Yes, both of them were," she said softly but firmly. The Auror nodded and let them go.

"Well done."


	14. Chapter 14

Hogwarts Express

Ilìsa was once more wearing her Weasley sweater and some Muggle pants. She'd found the ensemble rather comfortable and since the Express was arriving on a Saturday, she could wear whatever she wanted, she wore them and some open-front pale purple robes. (She would have worn Durmstrang robes, but Dumbledore had, upon adopting her, transferred her officially to Hogwarts, which meant she followed their dress code. He'd refrained from Sorting her, though, probably scared of her being in Slytherin.) She pushed her trunk along, followed by Harry, and sat down in the first empty compartment she could find.

_Can I have the sweet frogs now? _Vesuvia demanded. Ilìsa groaned and found a pack of Chocolate Frogs, performing the endless-hopping spell and releasing them.

"That's all for this ride, Vesuvia. You wouldn't want to get a cavity in your adult fangs, now would you?" Ilìsa observed. The snake tossed her the cards. "Well, at least now I have an excuse for having a Voldemort card. I can pretend to be a collector. Woop de dah, I got Dumbledore."

"That's worthless," Harry said before cracking up. He slapped a hand to his forehead. "I meant the card."

"No, it was true. I also have Merlin and Circe. I think I'm a magnet for Dark ones though, because I appear to have gotten Grindelwald, Morgana, and that French Dark Lord, what was his name again, right, right, wait a minute. His name was Malfoi. Sound familiar?"

"Malfoy?" Harry guessed. Ilìsa shrugged.

"Possibly. I mean, their name obviously isn't English, so…" she broke off as two people walked in. She recognized them as Parvati and her twin, who were both smiling widely.

"Can we sit here, Ilìsa?" Parvati asked. "Only, we want somewhere where we don't have to hide our heritage, you know what I mean?"

"Be my guest," Ilìsa said, waving her hand. "Oh right, Harry, re-meet Parvati and Padma, descendants of the Maharani Naheen, who was India's Slytherin and developed Parseltongue's writing system." Harry blinked a few times before smiling.

"Well met indeed," he said, grinning. They smiled back. Padma sighed.

"I wish I was in Gryffindor with you folks, it gets so lonely," she sighed. Ilìsa made a face.

"I could probably convince the Sorting Hat to put me in Ravenclaw, but Dumbledore is worried it'll make me go to Slytherin," she said in annoyance. Parvati looked surprised and winked.

"Well, I'll be sure to tell him just how much of a nerd you are, then, get him to Sort you," she grinned. "Considering my reputation as a vapid gossip, it shouldn't be too hard. I'll miss having you around, but I can take it."

"You'll be fine, considering I'll be there," Hermione said, walking in and sending a silence spell at the door. "You're usually more careful than this, Ilìsa."

"We weren't discussing anything wrong," she shrugged. "Padma, how have people in Ravenclaw reacted?"

"To you being you?" Padma asked. At Ilìsa's nod, she shrugged. "Well, it was bad at first, but when Parvati spoke with me, I started telling people whatever she said. Most of the older kids now agree that you're a perfect person, what with Dumbledore adopting you and Gryffindor rallying around you."

"Are you expecting any Ravenclaws to walk in while we're talking?" Ilìsa asked, making plans.

"A few probably will," she agreed. "They tend to miss me in debates." Ilìsa nodded and dispelled the spell on the door.

"Right then, everybody act innocent while Padma and I go all nerdy," she instructed, making everyone laugh. She dug into her trunk and found the Transfiguration book she'd bought. "I've been meaning to look through this, would you like to as well?"

"Sure."

About twenty minutes later, a group of Padma's Ravenclaw friends walked into the compartment to find Parvati and Harry snoozing, Hermione reading a book absently, and Ilìsa embroiled in a great debate with Padma.

"Padma, is everything all right?" asked a girl, throwing a wary glance at Ilìsa, who didn't notice, immersed as she was. She waved her arm a bit.

"Padma, the wand movement is not the most important part of Transfiguration!" Ilìsa exclaimed. "The most important part is merely visualization! I could Transfigure a cup into a bird without speaking or thinking the incantation or doing any wand movement short of touching it, but that doesn't work the other way around!"

"Ilìsa, you and Padma have been arguing about this for over twenty minutes," Hermione said, looking up from her book and yawning slightly. "You've managed to bore me, and I'm the Ravenclaw in Gryffindor Tower."

"If she's managed to argue with Padma for twenty minutes, I'd say she's a Ravenclaw," the girl said, she and her friends sitting down nearby. "No one has ever managed to correct Padma. Ever." Padma rubbed her temples.

"I'm beginning to see Ilìsa's point, however," she said, brow furrowed. "I remember, back in our first Transfiguration lesson, McGonagall turned her desk into a pig and back, but she never used an incantation or a wand movement."

"Transfiguration is exemplified by the Animagus transformation," Ilìsa said with a thoughtful frown. "It requires no wand, no incantation, simply visualizing yourself as the animal and practice. It is a human transformation, or one of the highest levels of the pyramid; ergo, all other branches of the subject, as the lower ones, follow the same rules."

"I see," Padma said. "I never thought of it that way. Thanks." Her Ravenclaw friends looked at each other in amazement before holding out their hands to Ilìsa. Ilìsa took a girl's first.

"I'm Mandy Brocklehurst, and I apologize for my reaction when the Headmaster told everyone of your heritage," Mandy said seriously. Ilìsa smiled slightly.

"That's all right, all of you," she said. "I would've reacted the same way. In fact, I _did_. In any case, it wasn't just the Ravenclaws; even the Hufflepuffs, who are supposed to be accepting, had such a reaction. Therefore, I forgive everyone for their initial reactions and judge them based on how they act now." The other Ravenclaws smiled at this.

"I'm Terry Boot."

"I'm Morag MacDougal."

"I'm Sally-Anne Perks."

"I'm Lisa Turpin."

"And I am Emilia Moon."

"Nice to meet all of you," she said. "I've heard Ravenclaw Tower is a good place to study. I envy you." They all laughed.

"Well, go get Sorted and join us then," Sally-Anne said with a little giggle. "You would fit in perfectly."

"You think so?" Ilìsa said with surprise. "I think the Headmaster was worried the Hat would put me in Slytherin." They all shook their head immediately.

"Oh no," Terry said firmly. "No Ravenclaw in the Tower has ever managed to out-debate Padma. You are as Ravenclaw as they come, my new friend."

"And we'll all tell the Headmaster that so he knows," Padma said brightly. The others nodded and Ilìsa smiled widely.

"Thanks."

"Please tell us not all of your clothes are green, though," Emilia said. She pointed at the sweater. "I recognize the Weasley sweater, and it's dark green, so it's okay, but the other Ravenclaws wouldn't take too kindly to you always in Slytherin colours." Ilìsa made a face.

"No, I have a lot of blues as well, only I can't wear light blues lately," she said with a frown. "They clash horribly with my eyes."

"Yes, they would," Emilia agreed. "Say, where'd you get those earrings? They look like they cost a fortune!" Ilìsa touched one of them and nodded in agreement. They were a set of amethyst studs; Lucius knew Ilìsa had six piercings per ear (apparently it was an elven thing she'd had done and enchanted to stay open as a baby) and he'd emphasized that by giving her three studs per ear.

"They probably did, knowing who they came from," she said, shaking her head, "But I don't know where they are from, I received them for Christmas." Emilia looked curious.

"Really? That's a very kind Christmas gift," she said. Ilìsa caught the glance she threw at Harry and chuckled.

"No, that's not where they're from," she replied, stroking Vesuvia's head absently. "Vesuvia was gift enough for years. My earrings are from the Malfoys." The Ravenclaws looked stunned.

"But I thought you don't support You-Know-Who!" Sally-Anne exclaimed. She caught Ilìsa's look of confusion with disbelief. "Don't you know that the Malfoys are like his biggest supporters?" Ilìsa heard the card in her pocket hiss 'they've got that right' in Parseltongue and shook her head.

"I figured they might be, but they're kind to me," Ilìsa said with a shrug. "You know the World Cup and the big attack that happened then?" They all nodded. "I went with the Malfoys and when the screams started going up, we went and helped those poor Muggles. None of the Aurors believed Mr. Malfoy fought, of course, but honestly, when else would he look that ruffled? Have you noticed that family _always_ has to be perfectly groomed? Anyway, I had to vouch for Draco and his father. It was ridiculous!"

"So wait, you're saying that _Lucius Malfoy _helped Muggles?" Padma said. She wasn't even faking the tone of disbelief in her voice. Ilìsa nodded.

"Pretty much. Mind you, one of the people fighting the Death Eaters threw a Killing Curse that almost hit me and boy, I have never seen a Malfoy look that angry." Parvati woke up and heard this, giggling.

"Then you sure missed out!" she exclaimed. The Ravenclaws exchanged a collective exasperated look, including Ilìsa in it. "There was this one time Hermione punched Malfoy – I mean the young one – in the face! It was hilarious!" Hermione turned red.

"Well, that's what the fool gets for acting like a dumbass," she muttered. "Honestly, that wasn't so funny as the time he got turned into a ferret."

"He _what_? You've gotta tell me, I have to have something on him to blackmail him with!" Ilìsa begged. Parvati giggled again.

"Well, most of the school knows," she said, "But anyway, he tried to attack Harry from behind-"

"I knew he was stupid, but that's ridiculous. Sorry, continue."

"Right, anyway, Professor Moody, the really awesome DADA teacher we had a couple years ago and now again, saw it and he was mad, so he took Draco and transfigured him into a white ferret before bouncing him all over the corridor."

"White ferret, huh?" Ilìsa mused. "That's not such a difficult transfiguration, actually. Enough of the features are the same…"

"Don't say that to Malfoy's face, though," Terry said with a grin. "I've never see a guy so proud of his hair. I bet someone a Sickle he's queer." Ilìsa wrinkled her nose.

"While that would have the bonus effect of making sure he didn't procreate, ew! Terry, why did you have to get us on this thinking track!" she whined. "Besides, it's not a queer thing if you're a Malfoy. I think it`s an inherited trait or something with them, as is compulsive over-spending. That reminds me, Harry, have you decided whether or not Mrs. Malfoy's way of getting back at Draco is enough for you? I mean, it was enough for me, but you were as offended by that Christmas 'present'," her tone was scathing, "As I was." Harry stirred and thought about it before grinning.

"Head Boy needs his ego deflated," he said, his grin growing wider. "I'll be back." He left the compartment and Sally-Anne immediately turned to Ilìsa.

"What has him so angry?" she asked. Ilìsa grimaced.

"The Malfoys apparently couldn't agree on what to get me for Christmas, so they each got me something," she explained. "Unfortunately, Draco was unsupervised and got me a highly inappropriate present. Harry's still angry." Parvati leaned in.

"What was so inappropriate about the present?" she asked eagerly. Ilìsa grimaced again.

"You remember what Lav gave me?" she asked. Parvati nodded. "Right, well, Draco did the same, only there was far less of it." Everyone, understanding the reference or not, turned a bright red. "Yes, and Harry, deciding my honour needs to be upheld, is probably casting unseen hexes right now. Draco's already gotten his due, though. Getting Mrs. Malfoy angry is hard, but when she is…" Ilìsa shook her head. "I think the Blacks might have had some Veela blood somewhere because I have _never _seen a woman do that before."

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" the lunch lady asked. "Oh, hello, dear, how is Vesuvia?" Ilìsa smiled.

"Good, but she's not getting any more Frogs today, after the cavity she had," Ilìsa said with a shake of her head. "Can I have a pack of Drooble's, please?" She took the gum, handed off a few coins, and took out her wand. She tapped it against the package, muttering, before putting her wand away and taking the gum. She popped it into her mouth and grinned; it now tasted like vanilla and strawberry ice cream. She munched on the gum until the train came to a halt. "Vesuvia, stop gnawing on whatever you're gnawing on and come on." The Ravenclaws laughed as the snake snapped at Ilìsa before slithering onto her shoulders.

"Isn't she heavy?" Emilia asked. Ilìsa nodded.

"Oh heck yes, I've just gotten used to it," she agreed. "I'm only thankful Harry has the Silverscale hybrid, because those guys grow much bigger. Vesuvia's at her final size, whereas Nachtan still has another meter of growth left at least." They paled and separated into carriages; Ilìsa ended up with Harry, Padma, and Parvati. The two snakes were hissing for what seemed like forever when Padma spoke up.

"So, Ilìsa, did you figure out how to read Parseltongue?" she asked with a grin. "Because if you have and you get Sorted into Ravenclaw, we can make a great big study of it and get an O for Ancient Runes." Ilìsa pondered that.

"I got some advice," she said vaguely. The two Indian girls' eyes narrowed.

"From who?" Parvati asked sharply. Ilìsa sighed.

_Do you trust them? _Ilìsa hissed towards her pocket. Voldemort sighed.

_Yes. If they are of Naheen's blood, then they are Dark and cannot betray you, _he replied. Ilìsa sighed as well and pulled out the small card. The two girls paled – it being very visible on their dark skin – as Voldemort looked at them. _They are Naheen's. _

"And that is where I got my advice," Ilìsa said with a roll of her eyes. "It made much more sense than when I just thought it looked like weird writing."

"So, you are Naheen's heiresses," Voldemort said. They started. "Oh yes, I know Naheen's law that states that if twins are born, both are heiresses until the eldest bears a child. Well met, children of the Maharani." They inclined their heads in sync.

"Well met, heir of the Snake Lord," they replied together. Then Padma looked at the card curiously.

"How on earth did you find a Dark wizard card?" she asked. "Even Morgana is impossible to find, and she's been dead for a millennium!" Ilìsa made a face and pulled out her cards.

"Let's see, I have this Dark Lord," she gestured to Voldemort, "Grindelwald, Malfoi, and Morgana. All from the past two weeks, too. Listen to Grindelwald's card, it's really funny." She cleared her throat and read aloud.

_Gellert Grindelwald_

_Attaining the rank of most vicious Dark Lord until he was ousted decades later by You-Know-Who _– Gee, big surprise – _Grindelwald was considered to have singlehandedly caused the Muggle Second World War by influencing Germany's Muggle population into believing a stark raving madman _– no, really?_ His reign of terror continued without respite, dissenters being imprisoned in the fortress he designed, Nurmengard, until he was confronted by the greatest Light wizard of the age – _wait for it, it's going to be Florean Fortescue – no, wait, never mind – _Albus Dumbledore, and defeated in a spectacular duel. He now resides in his own prison, wearing the uncomfortable clothing he assigned his own prisoners to wear._

"Well, it _could _have been Fortescue, after all, did you ever see such a ray of happiness as that man?" Parvati giggled. "He's like a regular ray of sunshine."

"It bores people to tears," Voldemort said.

"No, it bores _you _to tears."

"What have I said about the cheek?"

"Not to do it. But I will anyway." The twins were roaring with laughter by this point and Ilìsa observed this. "You know, you should get to know the Weasley twins. They seem to laugh as much as you do."

"Well, they were quite cute," Parvati giggled. "What do you think, Padma?"

"I get the smarter one, what's his name, George," Padma swiftly said.

"Oh Merlin, what have I started?" Ilìsa moaned. The carriage came to a halt and she hopped out. "Come on, you three!" They walked into the Entrance Hall, where, surprisingly, Dumbledore was standing. He smiled widely upon seeing Ilìsa surrounded by Ravenclaws as they walked up.

"You have made many friends, Ilìsa," he said, twinkling. She nodded happily.

"Yes, I have. All of the Ravenclaws are the best, though," she said with a grin. "I out-debated Padma on the train and they've all agreed I'm an honorary Ravenclaw since." He looked happy to hear this.

"Well, would you like a chance to become a real one?" he asked. "The Sorting Hat expressed an interest in you." She beamed and nodded. "Well then, come along." She followed him to yet another room off the Entrance Hall. "So, my dear, how were your holidays? You seem much more confident now." She nodded.

"I feel it, too," she said happily. "The Weasleys were very kind; I got the sweater and everything. They all accepted me quickly and everything, so I started to get more confident as I realized that not everyone hates me. Bill and Charlie were fun, though Mrs. Weasley kept slapping Bill upside the head for looking me over. And the World Cup was fun, too, even though I went with the Malfoys." He seemed to freeze for a moment, thinking.

"You went with the Malfoys? And how was that?" he asked. She smiled.

"Well, I'm friends with Draco, so that's always fun," she started, "And Mrs. Malfoy more or less treats me like the daughter she never had, I think because she enjoys having another girl around. The Cup was good, but the attack was kind of a morbid wake-up call. When we heard the shouts, Draco, his father and I ran out to see what was happening and the next thing we knew, we were throwing hexes at the Death Eaters. Mr. Malfoy managed to get the Muggles down and then the Death Eaters left. The only thing was, when the Aurors arrived, they didn't believe him when he said he'd been fighting _for_ the Muggles. They turned and asked me and had the temerity to look _surprised _when I agreed." Her little rant over, Dumbledore looked pensive. She broadened her mind's reach and felt him almost shouting his thoughts again. _Perhaps they truly were under the Imperius. _Ilìsa smiled slightly as Dumbledore handed her the Sorting Hat. "Well, here goes nothing." She pulled it on.

_My, my, you are a little schemer, aren't you? Do tell me exactly why I shouldn't yell out Slytherin right this instant, _its voice rasped in her head.

_Because if you do, I shall have to leave the school, simple as that, _she replied dryly. _Do you honestly think I could stay?_

_Good point. Now, if not Slytherin – though you know very well you would be the best of the best there – let us see,_ the Hat said. _Huf-NO. _

_I could have told you that. _

_Yes. That leaves Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. You don't fit the bill __**at all**__ for Gryffindor, so better be _"RAVENCLAW!" She pulled it off happily and handed it back to Dumbledore, who was twinkling. Dumbledore smiled.

"Well done, my dear," he said. "Not everyone has arrived in the Great Hall already, so you should be able to slip in unnoticed." She smiled back and rushed out of the room and into the Great Hall, where she mingled with the crowd of other people walking in. She stepped towards the Ravenclaw table and spotted Padma waving, so she walked over and sat down.

"How long did it take to convince it?" Padma asked quietly. Ilìsa looked at her.

"I told it I would leave otherwise. It changed its mind very quickly. Oh, you're a prefect? I didn't notice," she said, pointing at Padma's badge. She grimaced.

"I'd rather not have been, but Flitwick told me I had the best homenum revelio in my year so I had to be," she explained. "He wants the best people out there so if someone's out after curfew we'll find them. Honestly though, you and Vesuvia would probably do better." Ilìsa nodded.

"Vesuvia is good at that," she agreed. "Heat vision and super sense of smell and all. Well, have fun patrolling."

"I'm probably going to go to Flitwick," Padma sighed. "It's NEWT year, I don't want to risk affecting my grades. I don't know how Hermione manages Head Girl and top of the year. Though you're starting to challenge her," she added with a smile. "No one's managed to do that before, but you actually are tying Hermione in scores."

"How do you know?" Ilìsa asked curiously. Padma snorted.

"Ravenclaw Tower has a big list you can use to find out your scores," she explained. "It also has a 'top ten' list. You and Hermione are tied for first because you're beating her in Potions, Charms, and Ancient Runes but she's beating you in Transfiguration, Herbology, and Arithmancy and you're tied in Muggle Studies and DADA."

"Wow. I didn't know that," Ilìsa said, baffled.

"Yeah. And to top it all off, you're in the Tournament too," Padma snorted. "I don't know how you do it."

"Neither do I."

Later

Ravenclaw Tower was, admittedly, nicer than Gryffindor. It was decorated with a calming dark blue with silver stars so the ceiling looked like the sky and the tables and chairs were obviously meant to be comfortable but also functional. There was a statue of Ravenclaw near the doors to the dorms and Ilìsa smiled at the look of serene knowledge on the woman's face. Then she frowned. It looked like Dumbledore. Padma led her to their dorm and Ilìsa was delighted with the beds. They were the same as Gryffindor's but it was going to be easier to fall asleep with dark blue hangings than red. She shuddered at what Hufflepuff must be like. Padma took the bed second-nearest the wall and gestured for her to take the one nearest. Ilìsa sat down and smiled.

"This is nice," she decided. Padma was unpacking already.

"I should hope so," she said dryly. "It's said Ravenclaw designed the common room to be like an eagle's eyrie."

"It worked."

"It did."


	15. Chapter 15

"Are you even allowed to bring Vesuvia into Potions? Snape will kill you," Padma said worriedly. Ilìsa shook her head.

"I have permission from Dumbledore to always have her with me, and that includes classes," she said. "Besides, Snape'll shut up if he wants to experiment with any of her venom." Padma looked at her appraisingly.

"You're serious?"

"While not the greatest of teachers, Snape _is _a Potions genius," Ilìsa said quietly, knowing the bat's penchant for hearing things he shouldn't be able to. "He achieved the rank of Potions Master at a record-setting young age, and won just about every prize there is. I've heard, anonymously of course, that he was the one who created Wolfsbane. If he wants to experiment with a new snake breed's venom, then he'll have to ask very politely. Now let's go or we'll be late." They headed down to the dungeons quickly and settled in the classroom. Ilìsa noticed that this class, with mostly Ravenclaws and a few of the more bookish Hufflepuffs, was far quieter than the Gryffindor/Slytherin one. Snape billowed in and began his lesson, his insulting epithets toned down for a class he didn't _particularly_ despise. He assigned them the Draught of Living Death and Ilìsa got started, snapping on her specially-treated dragonhide gloves. Snape saw the gloves and walked over.

"You do understand that dragonhide reacts with these ingredients?" he asked darkly. She nodded, keeping her eyes on the water, which had to be _just _boiling.

"Yes, sir, I do," she replied, toning down the heat as she began chopping the ingredients. "That is why I went and got the gloves that are treated to be neutral." He nodded in approval.

"Very well," he said. "Though where you found them, I do not know." She smiled thinly, dropping a single eighth of Shrivelfig into the cauldron. Knockturn.

"I would rather keep that to myself, professor," she said calmly. He nodded in acceptance of this and went to go see the other cauldrons. She could feel a gaze and looked up to see Padma gaping at her. "What?"

"Did he just nod in approval?" she whispered, "Because that's only ever happened for Slytherins." She shrugged and continued making her Potion.

"Whether or not he did nod, you might want to check on your potion before it explodes," she advised, making the other girl whip about and go back to work. Ravenclaws were singularly one-track minded when it came to work. Snape called an end to their brewing and she filled a vial with the Draught she had made to hand in and vanished the rest. She placed the vial with the others on Snape's desk and put away her things just as the bell rang. Ilìsa yawned slightly and followed Padma to Transfiguration, wondering vaguely why the two classes always seemed to be together. They piled into the classroom – this class was Ravenclaw only because of how many Ravenclaws took NEWT-level Transfiguration – and sat down. Ilìsa wondered where the professor was when Vesuvia hissed.

_I smell a cat who is a woman, _she hissed. _She is one of the shifters. _Ilìsa smiled in understanding and thanked the snake, turning to where Vesuvia had pointed with her tail to see a tabby cat with square markings around the eyes looking back at her. The cat's whiskers twitched in seeming amusement before it leaped off the desk it was on and reverted to Professor McGonagall.

"Good morning, everyone," she said, heading to the front. Ilìsa figured she was more pleasant with the people who actually passed their classes. "As I promised, we will today be trying to see if you have an Animagus form. If you find that you do indeed have one, I will offer you tutoring in the subject. Now, while few people even have the latent ability to have a form, even fewer have the dedication to finish the job. There is a reason there are about fifty Animagi in the world at any given moment amongst the thousands of Wizarding people. Now, to begin, I want you all to write down any characteristics about yourself that are relevant; for example, how hard you work, how generous you are, and so on. You must be brutally honest; your form will not be taking the shape of an animal you like but the one that most represents you. If you have a very close friend, ask them to evaluate you, honestly." There was a great ruffling of parchments and Ilìsa thought for a moment. McGonagall walked over, a thin smile on her lips. (The stern teacher had taken a liking to Ilìsa after seeing her effortlessly transfigure a button into a flying model of a phoenix.) "You will find it easiest to ask your snake, I believe. Familiars tend to be quite honest with their bonded and that will help here." Ilìsa smiled back.

"Thank you, professor," she replied, turning to Vesuvia. She loved the fact that at least one of the teachers was comfortable with Parseltongue and didn't mind it at all. _What would you say are my most obvious characteristics, Vesuvia? _Everyone in the class but Padma and the professor involuntarily shivered at the hissing and spitting noises they heard but worked on anyway, refusing to acknowledge them.

_You are cunning, _Vesuvia began, _and very much willing to use others; on the other hand, you are loyal and kind to those you call your friends. Getting you to trust someone is a long and difficult road, but once you do, you will be the best friend possible to them. You are picky and selective, and will take only the best, but at the same time you allow everyone and everything a chance to prove themselves. You are very powerful, but you try to hide it not to help further your plans but to avoid making your weaker friends feel embarrassed. You work hard when you see a clear benefit or reason but otherwise you are lazy. And finally, like with your friends, getting you to love is hard, getting you to unlock your heart is hard, but once you do, that love is stronger than most can imagine, a force I can actually taste on my tongue._ Ilìsa wrote all of that down and couldn't help but blush at half of the stuff on the parchment. McGonagall walked over and read it and her lips twitched.

"As I said, familiars are brutally honest," she said with a small smile. "This is a good snapshot of who you are. Go take one of the books from that shelf and see which animals are most fitting of this description. When you have narrowed it down to four, tell me." Ilìsa took one of the books and began looking through it, reading each animal's page before giving up and turning to the back to search from the index. After about half an hour of scratching her head, McGonagall walked over again and saw about twenty animals crossed out. "Is something wrong?" Ilìsa snorted slightly.

"I'm a walking contradiction," she said, rubbing one eye. "Cunning but kind, mistrustful but a good friend, picky but gives everything a chance. Is this even possible?" McGonagall came very close to laughing.

"That is why I told you to take the book; it puts the fact into perspective," she said seriously. "In recorded history, there have been about thirty Animagi who were able to choose their forms. I believe that if you have the ability, you will be one of them." She looked at the sheet again. "If I were you, I would look at either a bird of prey, or one of the wild cats." Ilìsa smiled widely, this made much more sense.

"Thank you again, professor," she said, turning back to the book. She was trying to focus when Vesuvia interrupted.

_Master, I have a message for you, _she hissed. Ilìsa looked up.

_What? From who?_

_The fire-bird, he called himself, _Vesuvia said in confusion. _Do you know him?_

_Oh. Do you mean the phoenix Fawkes?_

_Yes._

_What on earth could he possible want with me? Oh well. What's the message? _Ilìsa asked curiously. Vesuvia hissed strangely.

_He says to tell you 'If you are confused about your animal form, you should be. I could see the animal in you when I met you – __**that**__ is why I sat on your head, __**not**__ because I like you. Your Animagus form, Dark hatchling, is a now-extinct bird of prey. Tell your teacher 'Fawkes says hello'. She will understand; I told her someone like this would be coming. Hatchling, I cannot support you because my bonded is Light; but know this: I am not, and neither is the cat.' And that is all. _Ilìsa rubbed her head in irritation and walked up to McGonagall.

"This is getting ridiculous," she muttered before looking up. "Apparently, Fawkes says hello." She blinked a few times before genuinely smiling. She nodded.

"Very well. You have an Animagus form, then," McGonagall said seriously. "Will you accept the tutoring?"

"Of course," Ilìsa said. "Especially since apparently something is messed up with all this." McGonagall nodded slightly.

"There is that," she agreed. "Your first lesson will be here, this evening at six." Ilìsa nodded.

"Thank you, professor." She sat back down and got ready to leave and stood just as the bell rang. Padma chattered away, showing for once her likeness to her sister.

"Oh my, how did you do? McGonagall said that if I'm an Animagus, I'll be a small monkey," Padma said. "I can't see it, but…"

"Why not?" Ilìsa teased. "It's clever, ingenious, and siblings in the monkey realm look the same. It fits, don't you agree?" Padma thought about it.

"I didn't see it that way, but now that you say it, yeah," she agreed. "So what happened to you? You looked really frustrated most of the time."

"Well, as I told McGonagall, I'm a big walking contradiction," Ilìsa said with a grimace as they headed to lunch. "My characteristics had opposites of each other and it made no sense. I'll figure it out later." The sat down and suddenly the Hall fell quiet. Ilìsa started at the silence and looked around to see that for some reason Fudge was standing at Dumbledore's podium. His irritating pink-clad toad-woman (Ilìsa wondered vaguely if he was married, because if he wasn't she'd be a prime candidate) cleared her throat.

"Hem-hem," she made a weird noise. Everyone silenced and looked up at the podium. She stepped back.

"Ah, yes, thank you Dolores," Fudge said absently. "Students of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, it is with great excitement that I announce a formal ball to be held at the Ministry for all students third-year and above. Invited are the greatest masters of any given subject from all over Europe and this is a wonderful opportunity to seek out those of your favourite subject. Older students will perhaps be interested in finding apprenticeships; many of the masters that will be present are looking for apprentices. This ball will be on the twenty-third of January. Thank you. He and the toad-woman left, leaving the Great Hall abuzz. Padma's eyes sparkled.

"This is such a great opportunity!" she exclaimed. "I've been trying to find a list of Masters but I couldn't find one. Oh, but it's formal, it's going to be tricky to find suitable robes." Ilìsa immediately thought of the dress robes Narcissa had given her and she grinned. "Why do you look so happy at the prospect of finding robes? We have to impress the Masters!"

"I just remembered the Mrs. Malfoy gave me the perfect Christmas gift," Ilìsa said, smiling. "I'll show you in the dorms."

"Lucky." The next two classes passed quickly and without much ado, though Padma kept pestering her to spill what she meant by the perfect Christmas gift. In the dorms, Ilìsa rummaged around in her trunk before pulling out the still-neatly packaged robes. She unfolded them and showed them to Padma, who actually squealed.

"They're beautiful!" she exclaimed, holding them up. "And they're a perfect colour, too!"

"Yeah. I'll have to find some matching jewelry, though, and I don't normally do blue, so that might be tricky. Say, Padma, how much do you know about current Ministry policy?"

"My dad's the Indian ambassador, so quite a bit," Padma said in amusement. "Why?"

"I've heard that some of the higher-ups dislike creature blood," Ilìsa sighed. "I hate having to conceal who I am." Padma looked confused.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Promise not to tell?"

"Sure." Ilìsa took her wand and tapped her ears once, removing the glamour. She looked at Padma, who was gaping.

"Go ahead and say it."

"Your ears are pointy! Are you an elf?" she gasped. Ilìsa chuckled.

"No. I'm half," she replied with a straight face. "That's why I have the six piercings in each ear. They look better in elf form though. I was wondering if I should keep these glamoured or not."

"Who knows?"

"Harry, Dumbledore, the Malfoys, and now you I guess?" Ilìsa said in confusion. "Why?"

"Well, I mean, it all depends on what type of elf you are," Padma replied. "Like, if you suddenly turned out to be half house-elf, well, you'd be ridiculed. The thing is, the only other type of elf is the Light Elves. If your father is You-Know-Who, how the heck did you happen?" Ilìsa burst into laughter before realizing that she'd removed the glamours on her voice and her laughter sounded like a bell.

"Damn, I'd forgot how loud elf laughter is," she said crossly, seeing the involuntary smile on Padma's face. "Sorry. Anyway, I have no idea. My mother was the last of the High Elves, or Light Elves as wizards call them. So yeah."

"Well, if that's true, then most of Ministry will be kissing your feet," Padma snorted. "In the few records the Ministry has on Light Elves, they're described as 'better', 'more beautiful', and 'amazing'. It's been the mission of the Ministry to find one for years. They never managed it though. The reason they've been trying is because apparently the Department of Mysteries has some sort of chest that they can't open without the approval of an elf."

"Wow," Ilìsa managed. "That's cool."

"Yep. Only thing is, you would probably have to prove that you're an elf," Padma said. Ilìsa was about to reply when the card spoke up.

_Check your trunk, _he said from where she'd propped him up. _In the bottom right corner, there is a secret panel._ She looked surprised but did so, searching around for the panel. When she found it, it released with a click. She poked her hand into the little compartment and pulled out some sort of jewel chain.

"What's that?" Padma asked.

"I have no idea." Voldemort rolled his eyes.

"It's a sort of elven earring, apparently," he said. "There should be several pairs in there, your mother's. I wouldn't know how they worked, so don't ask me." And with that he walked out of the card. Both girls blinked for a moment and Ilìsa handed one of the chains to Padma, who examined it curiously.

"I think I get it," she said. "There's six connected studs. Here, let me try to put this on." She stepped over to Ilìsa and started fiddling with the earring. "Aha! There it is." Ilìsa checked in the mirror. The chain started at the first piercing, which was near where the top of her ear met her skull, and then followed the shape of her ear. The last three studs had little chains of five teardrop-shaped gems hanging off them. Padma touched one. "These are beautiful."

"They are," Ilìsa agreed. She reached up and took the chain off. "Let's see if there's a violet set in here, it's not like I can wear orange earrings with blue robes." She poked her hand into the compartment and pulled out another pair of chains. "This one's green, this one's blue – nah, too much of the same colour is bad, this one's red, mother had too many earrings, aha! Here's a violet pair. Well, problem solved, my outfit is done."

"No it's not," Padma said with the fanatical gleam in her eye Ilìsa remembered from her sister. "We still have to figure out your hair."

"What do you mean, we? You're just going to attack my hair now…" And that was what she did. Ilìsa's hair never felt the same.


	16. Chapter 16

First task – January 20th

The three champions drew dragons from a bag. From Gabrielle's reaction, you'd have thought she was being put up against Voldemort. Now the three champions were sitting in the red-and-white striped tent. Harry and Ilìsa were, predictably, cuddling, while Gabrielle was muttering away in French, not remembering Ilìsa knew it.

"How can they just sit there and cuddle while we're all about to die," the girl muttered, Ilìsa translating her words into Parseltongue. Vesuvia and Nachtan, who weren't allowed to join them in the task as they were only bringing their wands, were coiled up together in a corner, sleeping with a warming charm laid over them. Gabrielle had drawn the easiest of the dragons, the Swedish Short-Snout, but she was still complaining.

_I can't believe I ever thought she was cute, _Harry hissed in irritation. _Her sister was much less arrogant and spoiled. At least Fleur knew what she was doing. Well, more than this anyway._

_Calm down. It's starting, and she's first. _Gabrielle was called out and the two champions tuned out Bagman's talking. Ilìsa relaxed against Harry as usual, eyes closed, when a camera shutter was heard. Her eyes snapped open and she leapt up, wand held in hand. Harry, too, jumped up and they looked around wildly.

"Make sure to get one of each alone, Barney," said a sickeningly-sweet voice. Harry growled.

"Skeeter," he spat. A woman with styled blonde curls and ridiculous winged glasses appeared, her blood-red talons tapping against a parchment on which an acid-green quill was perched. She smiled sweetly at Harry.

"Now, now, Harry, no need to be so antagonistic," she scolded. "I just wanted to ask you and Elena some questions." Ilìsa's eyes widened in disbelief and she stepped forward, smiling.

"Miss Skeeter, I've read all of your articles," she said, grinning like an idiot. Skeeter immediately smiled predatorily. She turned to Harry.

"You see, Harry, your girlfriend knows how to speak politely," she said. She turned to Ilìsa. "Now, Elena, which surname do you go by?" Ilìsa's eyes narrowed.

"First of all, Miss Skeeter, when I said I read your articles, I meant I read them to see how bad England's tabloids truly are," she sniffed. "Secondly, my name is _Ilìsa_, **not **Elena. Thirdly, I did not agree to ask any questions. But just because I'm nice I'll answer one. Just not that one, mostly because either answer will piss someone off." Skeeter nodded and Ilìsa's eyes narrowed impossibly further. "If I see one incorrect word in the Prophet, even Headmaster Dumbledore's patience won't stop me." She paled slightly.

"Alright, fine," she ground out. "Will you tell me, at least, how exactly you and Mr. Potter got together? After all, some of our readers are concerned you jumped from Krum to another celebrity for the heck of it." Harry started to hiss angrily and Ilìsa stopped him with a look. She turned back to Skeeter.

"Krum cheated on me, alright?" she said angrily. "I don't know how the gossips at the school didn't reach you, but I walked in on him making out with someone else. I hexed the bloody hell out of him – I can't say if he's recovered yet – and then ran off to have a good cry. Harry was the only person who comforted me. We started out friends, mostly him just offering a shoulder for me to cry on, especially when the Headmaster told everyone I was Voldemort's daughter. I got to know Hermione, as well, and she eventually said, as a joke I think, 'you two are blind, aren't you? You're made for each other'. Well, it woke us up and here we are." Bagman had finished narrating Gabrielle's abysmal performance and called Harry out. Ilìsa immediately began to worry. Skeeter noticed.

"Why the sudden worry?" she asked. Ilìsa sighed.

"I know Harry's a very good wizard," she said with a small smile, "But still, he's out there facing a Chinese Fireball. If he comes back injured, I'll probably help him, and then slap him for doing something so stupid as getting injured." Skeeter laughed a bit at this, actually showing genuine emotion. She looked at Ilìsa closely.

"Are you not worried for yourself?" she asked, obviously out of curiosity. Ilìsa shrugged.

"It hasn't hit me yet," she said truthfully. "It was a bit of a surprise. I have a couple plans running through my head, one being the main and the other a backup, but still." Skeeter eyed her.

"Thanks for answering a question," she said finally. "I won't write badly about you this time." She left with her photographer, leaving Ilìsa wondering what just happened. She sat back down and listened to Bagman.

"AND NOW, WE HAVE HOGWARTS CHAMPION HARRY POTTER!" the man shouted, making the crowd roar. "HE WILL BE FACING THE DREADED, THE SNEAKY, THE EXPLOSIVE CHINESE FIREBALL! BEGIN! Potter immediately raises his wand and shouts an accio! What is that? POTTER HAS SUMMONED HIS FIREBOLT AND IS FLYING CIRCLES AROUND THE DRAGON! ARE YOU WATCHING THIS, MR. KRUM?" Ilìsa snorted, that was a good one. Harry was very good, but he didn't have the practice Viktor had; years of professional tutoring had an effect. "POTTER ZOOMS IN – HE'S AIMING FOR THE EGG – HARRY POTTER HAS TAKEN THE EGG IN THREE MINUTES AND THREE SECONDS! WILL THE JUDGES PLEASE SEND UP THEIR SCORES? AMAZING! WILL THE DURMSTRANG CHAMPION BE ABLE TO BEAT THIS IMPRESSIVE SCORE?" She was still technically the Durmstrang champion, since that had been her school when she'd entered her name in the Goblet – that had irked Dumbledore to no end. She shrugged. "ILISA RIDDLE IS UP NEXT!" She winced at the surname; way to make everyone remember why they didn't really like her to start with. "COME ON OUT!" Ilìsa stepped out of the tent and blinked at the sudden light. When her eyes adjusted, she found herself in a stadium filled with rocky outcroppings and, at the other end, a giant, ugly black dragon.

"AND NOW WE HAVE DURMSTRANG CHAMPION ILISA RIDDLE! Er, did I pronounce that right? ANYWAY! RIDDLE WILL BE FACING THE SPINY, THE VICIOUS, THE DEADLY HUNGARIAN HORNTAIL!" The crowd fell silent; most of the people there knew that Horntails were some of the most vicious dragons in existence. "BEGIN!" Ilìsa raised her wand and smiled.

"_Accio egg!" _she shouted. She felt a satisfying jerk on her wand and watched as the golden egg zoomed into her hands. She held it up. "You might want to ward against that next time," she called up at the organizers. They turned red. Bagman stuttered.

"WELL THAT WAS UNEXPECTED! RIDDLE USES THE SAME CHARM AS POTTER, ONLY INSTEAD OF SUMMONING A BROOM TO GET THE EGG, SHE SUMMONED THE EGG! I'M GIVING POINTS FOR SHEER GENIUS!" Bagman yelled. Ilìsa waved up at him, grinning widely. "WILL THE JUDGES SEND UP THEIR SCORES?" She watched closely. Maxime smiled broadly at this and sent up a ten.

"Bien fait, Mademoiselle!" she called down. Ilìsa grinned up.

"Merci, madame!" she shouted up. Maxime smiled as the Dumbledore sent up a ten as well, beaming. The Ministry official, a man who looked like the 'Percy' she'd heard about from the Weasleys, sent up a ten as well. Bagman sent up a ten gleefully, laughing uproariously. Karkaroff looked around before seeming to give up and sending up a ten as well. Ilìsa whooped.

"I DON'T BELIEVE MY EYES! WELL, NO, I WAS EXPECTING THAT, BUT STILL!" Bagman shouted. "THE DURMSTRANG CHAMPION HAS SET A NEW RECORD – A PERFECT SCORE IN A STRANGER COUNTRY! EVERYBODY, LET'S GIVE HER A ROUND OF APPLAUSE!" The three Houses that were now happy with her cheered wildly, which was funny, seeing as she was helping Durmstrang win. She waved at everyone before walking out. As she walked past the tent, Vesuvia slithered onto her shoulders. She looked at Nachtan.

_I couldn't carry you if I tried, my friend,_ she told him in amusement.

_No. But you need me to show you where Master is. _Nachtan slithered off, Ilìsa following, to a medical tent where Madam Pomfrey was presiding over an injured Gabrielle and a slightly-singed Harry. She turned.

"Please don't tell me you are injured as well?" she asked. Ilìsa shook her head.

"No, I'm fine," she replied. Nachtan slithered forward and wrapped himself around Harry's torso, avoiding his shoulder where a patch of cream was doing its work. "Harry, how are you?" He grunted.

"I'm fine, but guess who refuses to believe it?" he sighed. Ilìsa suddenly remembered she had the Chocolate Frog cards in her pocket. She took them all out and slapped her head.

"I accidentally took flammable rare cards into a fight with a dragon. Man I'm forgetful," she groaned. Pomfrey looked interested.

"Rare cards? Which ones?" she asked. At Ilìsa's incredulous look she shrugged. "I have a large number of them, collected from Chocolate Frogs well-wishers send and patients forget to eat. I'm missing all of the Dark wizards though."

"I have like ten cards, but half of them are Dark wizards," Ilìsa snorted. "It's annoying. Look, I have the French Dark Lord, what was his name again?"

"Malfoi," Harry supplied.

"Yes, thanks, I have Morgana Le Fay, I have Grindelwald, and I have Voldemort." Pomfrey looked at the cards curiously, lingering over the Voldemort one.

"I thought they cancelled the release of that," she commented.

"I asked Fred and George about that. It turns out an employee played a prank and sent one off," Ilìsa explained. "Then Fred saw it and proceeded to tell me the snake-look is a fake." Pomfrey shrugged.

"Oh, I knew that," she said dismissively. "I was in Hufflepuff in the same year as Tom Riddle. He scared the… excuse me. He scared me, but we were some kind of friends until his fourth year, when things got strange." She eyed the two carefully before setting up a quick privacy ward. "Now correct me if I'm wrong, but you really aren't on Dumbledore's side of this."

"No, if you have anything else to say, you should probably do it now, seeing as so far, you're correct," Ilìsa said. Pomfrey nodded, as if confirming something she'd long believed to be true.

"It was a bit obvious from my point of view," she said dryly. "You're a good liar, Ilìsa, but Tom was a better one, and I caught him out lying before." Harry, who had been silent, looked at her keenly.

"You're not on Dumbledore's side of this either, are you?" he observed shrewdly. She shrugged.

"I am on neither, Mr. Potter. Dumbledore uses me to heal his warriors, I do it, because he is my employer. It is all the same to me; Hogwarts is Hogwarts whether it is Light or Dark, as is St. Mungo's. If I was working for a Dark wizard, I'd heal their supporters. It's the way it works for a Healer."

"Well said, Poppy," the Voldemort card said suddenly. She jumped and stared at it.

"What on earth?" she managed. He looked faintly amused, though it was hard to tell with the whole snake-head thing going on.

"I had to communicate with my daughter somehow," he said dryly. "When she found this card, I merely possessed it with part of me. Now answer me truly; when these two leave, are you going to go tell Dumbledore about this?" She thought about it before shaking her head.

"It's not part of my contract, nor is it something he'd ask me," she said firmly. "I want you to remember, though, I'm neutral in this conflict, Tom. I do my job, I help people, that's it." Voldemort inclined his head.

"I remember," he said. "Ilìsa, Mr. Potter, get a move on. The longer you stay here the higher the chance someone comes looking for you." Ilìsa nodded and slipped the cards into her pocket again. She turned to Madam Pomfrey and smiled slightly.

"I'm glad we figured this out," she said, making a face. "It's hard enough to lie, but it's considerably worse when you're been hit with a Crucio, even a teenager's version. Bye, Madam Pomfrey!" The two teens and their snakes – Harry without asking if he could – left, leaving the matron to tend to Gabrielle, shaking her head.

The two carried their respective golden eggs curiously, looking at them closely.

"We'll figure it out."


	17. Chapter 17

Three days later

Ilìsa walked into the dormitory to find Padma setting out the copious amounts of makeup she and her sister had in common. Ilìsa, vaguely amused, sighed and went to take a shower, knowing Padma would still be doing the same thing when she returned.

"What time is it?" she asked. Padma cast a quick charm.

"Three o'clock," she said. "The Ball is at five, which means we have two hours. Let's get into our robes so we can work on each other's hair." Ilìsa pulled on the robes she'd gotten from the Malfoys thanking them in her head repeatedly. She'd seen how stressed Padma had been looking for a set and didn't want any of it. Padma pulled on her own dress robes, a deep blue set with paler blue edging, and clapped her hands. "Alright, get rid of your glamours, Ilìsa. You're going as an elf."

"Fine, fine," Ilìsa muttered, doing as she asked and revealing her ears. "What do you want for your hair, Padma?"

"Can you do a French braid?" Padma asked. At Ilìsa's nod, she smiled. "Well, do that please. My hair doesn't have a wave in it like yours, so it looks nicer braided. Could I borrow one of the ribbons Parvati gave you? I saw one in the box that matches this dress perfectly."

"Sure. Come here, I'll do your hair," Ilìsa said, pulling out the ribbon Padma meant. Padma sat down in front of her and, grabbing a hairbrush, Ilìsa began braiding her hair. "You know, I almost envy your hair. It looks so much simpler to take care of."

"That's true, but on the other hand you can't really do anything with it," Padma said. "Everyone's going to be shocked when they see your hair, though. You've kept it up in that bun for what, the past two months?"

"It gets in the way when I'm in Potions, give me a break," Ilìsa groaned. "All done." Padma examined her braid in the mirror before nodding. They switched spots and Ilìsa spoke. "What exactly are you doing to my hair?"

"Close your eyes and you'll see." What seemed like forever later: "Open your eyes." Ilìsa did so and snorted. "Yes I copied Lord of the Rings. How on earth am I supposed to know what elves did with their hair?" Padma had taken the two front locks of her hair, braided them with two identical blue ribbons, and left them dangling, making her ears stand out all the more. Ilìsa sighed and began putting on the earrings, fiddling with them.

"There. Now what?"

"You're so novice at this. You don't need much makeup, since you somehow have perfect skin without trying," Padma said in mock envy. She took out a kit and a brush, starting to put it on Ilìsa's face. "But, on the other hand, a bit of colour wouldn't hurt. You're paler than the dead."

"Wonder where that came from," Ilìsa snorted. The card on the table rolled his eyes.

"Give me a break, I _am _dead," he pointed out, making both girls laugh. Lisa, Mandy, Sally-Anne and Emilia, it turned out, had friends in the year below them who had demanded their help and so the dorm was almost empty.

"Right, well, you weren't when I came about, unless my mother had really weird taste," Ilìsa said with a straight face, making both Padma and the super-evil Dark Lord wince.

"_Please_ never imply that again." Voldemort stated in that cold voice that Ilìsa knew meant she'd reached the limit.

"Okay, okay, not going there," she said defensively. Both relaxed and Padma retracted her brush with a flourish.

"Tada!" she proclaimed. Ilìsa turned and had to admit she looked nice. "Now let me do my own. If you want to help a bit, can you fish around in my trunk and find the silver heels?" Ilìsa did this and returned with a pair of silver heels that Padma absently put on. "Thanks. Now go found your own shoes, and all we'll have left is the nail polish!"

"What nail-polish? There was no nail-polish discussed!"

"Too bad, so sad. NOW GO PUT ON THOSE SHOES!"

"Ma'am, yes ma'am," Ilìsa muttered, doing as Padma ordered. She shook her finger at her father's card. "Don't you dare laugh at me." He rolled his eyes again and left the picture. Padma then pulled out a huge set of nail-polish with every hue of the rainbow. She paused thoughtfully, looking at Ilìsa, before pulling out a violet.

"You need to accessorize with hints of the same colour," she explained. "This way it works. Now sit still!"

The next time Ilìsa checked the clock, it was ten to five, and Padma was rushing about to see if she forgot anything. "PADMA! CALM DOWN! WE'RE IN OUR DRESS ROBES, OUR HAIR IS DONE, OUR MAKEUP LOOKS GOOD, OUR SHOES ARE ON, OUR NAILS ARE POLISHED, AND YOU HAVE YOUR ACCESSORIES!" Ilìsa shouted. She had transfigured a pouch she'd found in her trunk into a little clutch purse – that had taken a few tries – and had inside it her wand, a few Galleons, and the card. "NOW COME ON, THE PORTKEYS ARE IN THE ENTRANCE HALL!" They finally made it to the Hall, where McGonagall handed them a Portkey from a large box.

"I want to hear that both of you have found an apprenticeship when you return – at _ten, no later_," she stressed the time. Both girls nodded. "Also, Miss Patil, Professor Flitwick has agreed with your request to drop prefect. Miss Riddle, he has assigned it to you."

"I'd facepalm, but then Padma would kill me for ruining whatever makeup she put on me," Ilìsa said dryly. "I'm sure it's an honour, but after hearing Padma complain about it for a month I'm not so sure." McGonagall's lips thinned, though Ilìsa was sure it was from restraining laughter. The Portkey glowed blue and they disappeared.

They reappeared in the Atrium, which had been decked out with innumerable tables and sparkling lights. The two girls headed towards a group of Hogwarts students and joined them in their waiting. Ilìsa wove her way through the crowd (Vesuvia providing a nice red accent, she had to say) until she found Harry with Nachtan on his shoulders and deep red robes that looked almost black.

"What took you so long?" he asked. She sighed.

"Padma might be in Ravenclaw, but she's still a Patil," Ilìsa said dryly. Harry nodded in understanding and pointed to a small enclosure.

"It appears the Ministry was expecting people to bring their pets," he said, snorting.

"Well, either they were expecting us or people's children, as not many people carry animals on them at all time," she replied. A great bell gonged and Fudge appeared at the podium. "Oh lookie."

"Welcome, Hogwarts," he said. "We ask that if you have brought your familiars with you that they be left in the provided enclosure." Ilìsa mimed facepalming and Harry nodded in agreement. "The envelopes flying around will lead you to your seat; the one with your name on it will find you and then direct you. Please be seated."

_Vesuvia, not to be rude, but do you mind being in the enclosure for a bit?_ Ilìsa asked. _The power-holders will be angry if you do not._

_Fine, _the snake said grumpily. _But if you see someone sneering at me, then either you stop them quickly or I bite them._

_Hold your fangs. If you kill someone I'll be brought up on murder charges. Nachtan, that goes for you too._ The two Parselmouths carried their snakes over to the enclosure, where the serpents slithered off their shoulders and coiled up with their heads away from the tables. Two envelopes accosted them and led them to a very grand-looking table. Ilìsa noted that none of the other Hogwarts students were seated anywhere nearby.

"It appears, Harry, that we are more in demand than our classmates," she said. He nodded and they both sat down where their envelopes landed, turning into nameplates. Ilìsa looked around and read the names surrounding them before grimacing. "Bother. We're right beside Fudge and his flunkies. Get your poker face on." Harry understood the Muggle reference with a grin and nodded before assuming a very political look. The table filled quickly, and Ilìsa noted to her confusion that for some reason, the person beside her did not have a name. She read the position and nearly grimaced at understanding that an Unspeakable was sitting next to her. A singularly non-descript man, so much so it was obviously a disguise, sat down at that spot. He looked at her and very nearly stopped his look of surprise, though Ilìsa noted his eyes widening ever-so-slightly. Fudge stood again.

"Welcome, witches and wizards, to the Ministry Ball!" he said. "It will now begin!" he sat down – it turned out he was right across from the two – and smiled at them. "Ah, hello Miss Riddle, Mr. Potter. How have you been?"

"Very well, Minister," Ilìsa replied. "And yourself?" Harry admitted she was better at the politics game than he was. He was passable, but until they knew why Fudge had placed them here, Ilìsa was doing the talking.

"Jolly good, jolly good," Fudge said jovially. "Have you met Madam Umbridge yet? No? Dolores, these are the two students who stand out so much at Hogwarts." The toad-woman smiled at them.

"A pleasure, Mr. Potter, Miss Riddle," she simpered. Harry inclined his head.

"For us as well, Madam Umbridge," he replied. Fudge introduced them to just about every high-ranking Ministry official there was – amongst them Mr. Weasley, who, thanks to Lucius (who was predictably sitting nearby as well), was now Head of the Department of Muggle Relations – until he turned to the Unspeakable.

"And this is – er - " he stammered. The Unspeakable smiled.

"Unspeakable Jenkins works fine, Minister," he said. Everyone at the table knew it was a false name. Fudge sat down and began talking with Lucius. The Unspeakable immediately turned to Ilìsa. "Miss Riddle, are those ears a glamour or are they real?" She saw half the table listening in.

"They are real, Unspeakable," she replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Most of the time I keep them under glamours to avoid such questions." He nodded.

"I can understand that," he said, as whispers spread down the table. "May I enquire how you came by them?" Ilìsa smiled slightly.

"Unspeakable, I know exactly why you wish to find an elf," she said with amusement. "Unfortunately, the last High Elf, or, as wizards call them, Light Elf, was my mother." They blanched. Ilìsa could see the cogs in their brains. _You-Know-Who's daughter – mother an elf? – but that means – oh Merlin. _The Unspeakable's eyes narrowed.

"Is that so?" he asked. "How much do you know of elven culture?" She frowned slightly at him.

"Not much, evidently," she replied in irritation. "Unless you had not realized, my mother died when I was about a year old. How in the name of Merlin am I supposed to know any more than anyone else? I do know some bits and pieces from a time-spelled letter – no, you may _not_ have it – but I cannot be considered in any way knowledgeable." The bits and pieces she knew were actually from Voldemort, but she wasn't going to tell _him_ that. The Unspeakable looked somewhat deflated.

"Yes, well, if you are willing to share any of those bits and pieces, we'll gladly take it," he sighed. She looked at him pensively.

"Very well. I know a little bit of the elven mythology, some little pieces of the language, and a bit of their manner of dress, but that is all," she told him. He brightened slightly.

"The mythology and language could help significantly," he told her. "Would it be possible to have someone visit Hogwarts to speak with you?" She smiled a little.

"Unspeakable, if you can convince Headmaster Dumbledore, be my guest," she replied before stiffening. "Excuse us, everyone, someone has just decided to mock our," she gestured to herself and Harry, "Familiars." The table blanched and the two stood and swept over to the enclosure, where both snakes were hissing angrily at a small group who were throwing rotten vegetables at them.

"Is this how you treat innocent animals?" Harry spat. The group turned and paled. Among them Ilìsa recognized some of the diehard Light fanatics. One of them, Elmira Roper, spat right back.

"Innocent animals?" she screeched, catching the attention of the entire Atrium. Everyone turned. "How are they innocent? I saw You-Know-Who with a snake just as big and it ATE my intended! They're not innocent, they're monsters!" The group muttered in agreement. Ilìsa glided forward to reach into the enclosure. Vesuvia leaned into her hand, hissing contentedly. Ilìsa turned around again.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Roper, but I am nothing more than a student," she said sweetly. "Allow me to work this out aloud, if you will. Voldemort-" there was a collective flinch-"_Voldemort_ had a snake about the same size but evidently of a different species than these two who ate someone you cared for, so you condemn the entire snake species as a whole. Is that about right?" Most of the Atrium winced at how stupid the argument was but Roper nodded fiercely.

"That's right!" she shouted. "I can't believe people actually trust you! I mean, you're the spawn of You-Know-Who, you speak _Parseltongue_, and you have a giant snake. I don't see why the Aurors haven't thrown you in Azkaban yet!" Harry's eyes blazed with fury.

"Thrown in Azkaban?" he hissed. "Like my _innocent_ godfather? Would you have an innocent girl who can't change her parentage thrown to the Dementors? I sincerely hope not, because if you would, then society has fallen far!"

"And further," Ilìsa continued, "I do not like being referred to as _spawn_. I am as human as you – perhaps more so, considering your cruelty to animals and me so far – and I would prefer to be called as such. Also, Parseltongue? Obviously I speak it, Roper. I can't _help_ but speak it every time I see a snake – to me, it sounds like I am speaking English and I only notice that I have switched languages when someone stares at me. Vesuvia is a kind snake, I will have you know, and many of my friends in Gryffindor have petted her with delight. Finally, when Headmaster Dumbledore proposed to adopt me, the Aurors arrived to question me with Veritaserum. I proved myself then and I refuse to do it again on the whim of some fanatic who doesn't know politeness and manners when they bite her in the face."

"Now, either you and your cronies step aside and do not come near our familiars again, or we will be forced to encourage you," Harry said calmly. "Vesuvia and Nachtan have not retaliated against your pelting them with rotting vegetables because we asked them not to, for which you should be thankful as Vesuvia is quite possibly the fastest striker in existence. You should leave." Roper paled as she saw the entire Atrium staring at her and left in a huff, followed by her groupies. Ilìsa leaned over the enclosure again and cast a quick cleaning charm on both snakes.

_Shhh, _she hissed. _I am sorry._ Vesuvia rubbed her head against her palm before retreating to the wall and coiling again. Both students quickly returned to their seats.

"I apologize for that," Ilìsa said diplomatically. Fudge smiled and waved it off.

"That's alright, of course you had to defend your familiars," he said cheerily before returning to his conversation with Lucius – who Ilìsa noticed to her amusement looked to be dying of boredom to those who knew him well enough to see the little signs on his face. Umbridge cleared her throat in that idiotic way she had, making Ilìsa turn. She smiled at her and Ilìsa remembered this was one of the ones who hated creature blood.

"Miss Riddle, I was meaning to inquire how the Light Elves differ from house-elves," she asked in a rude tone. Everyone in earshot froze in disbelief and Lucius snorted.

"Madam Umbridge, I suggest you rethink that statement," he advised, noticing Ilìsa's nostrils flare. "The High Elves were like humans except they tended to be taller and far more beautiful, with bell-like voices. They were also highly magical and were infinitely better spellcasters than humans, having no need for a wand to cast high-caliber spells. They cannot be truly classified as creatures, seeing as they were highly proficient at every human skill." Umbridge nodded slowly.

"I see. Excuse my mistake, Miss Riddle," she said. Ilìsa inclined her head, mentally thanking Lucius.

"It is not a problem, Madam Umbridge," she replied, "I would also like to add that house-elves, while distant cousins of High Elves, are not truly elves. They are what the Muggles call brownies, a species of their own with no claim to the name 'elf'." Umbridge inclined her head in turn and Fudge stood.

"Now then, let the mingling commence!" Everyone stood and flooded away from the tables, moving from one to another in a complicated web of hellos and negotiations. Ilìsa promptly led Harry to where Lucius was meeting Narcissa and Draco.

"Hello, everyone," she said with a smile. "Lucius, thank you for that, it would have been bad had I blown up at her." He nodded slightly.

"Yes, it would have been, though your point about the house elves was a good one," he agreed. He looked at Harry. "Mr. Potter. You look well."

"As do you," Harry replied before turning to Draco, "You ought to be a tad more careful. Others in Gryffindor tower have already remarked upon how you haven't insulted me all year." Draco inclined his head.

"Who would have thought that you would be telling me to do so?" he asked. "But yes, that was a mistake and I shall rectify it immediately – by storming off and complaining about how my friend Ilìsa associates with 'Scarhead'. Excuse me." He then did exactly that, pretending to rush off to the Slytherins. Narcissa laughed slightly before turning to Ilìsa.

"I am glad you found a use for the present," she said, twinkling like Dumbledore did but in a way that was infinitely better. Ilìsa smiled.

"And I thank you for it," she said back. "Padma was rather… put out when I did not go searching with her, but I daresay I was glad." Lucius looked interested.

"Padma?" he asked. Ilìsa snorted.

"Padma Patil," she specified. His face cleared to look confused. "And, apparently, the Patil twins are heiresses to the Maharani Naheen, India's Slytherin." He nodded at this.

"You do seem to find allies everywhere you go," he observed. "I am beginning to wonder just how bad Dumbledore is at Legilimency. He seems to be missing everything lately."

"He's overconfident," Ilìsa theorized. "He's had years of relative quiet when nobody challenged him and so he now believes no one can and has grown lax."

"Also, I believe his age is finally catching up to him," Harry added. "He appears to be tired far more often and _something_ must have triggered his idea to adopt Ilìsa. That something can't have been just 'I want to help the poor girl'." Lucius nodded again, this time in appreciation. He seemed on the verge of saying something when Narcissa spoke.

"Dear, enough with all of this serious chatter, you must come and get to know the other ladies!" she exclaimed. Ilìsa threw a helpless glance at Harry and Lucius as Narcissa dragged her off to chatter with the high-class pureblood ladies. They all exclaimed over her dress robes (Narcissa was glowing) and then her earrings.

"My dear, where on earth did you get the idea for such a style?" one woman asked in fascination. Ilìsa smiled.

"It is a High Elf tradition, Mrs. Parkinson," she explained. "While my mother was still alive, she had it done and left all of her earrings to me. Somehow they survived the turmoil of the times."

"That's wonderful! My daughter was telling me all about you…" The woman was Pansy in a nutshell; loyal, but shallow and a chatterer. Eventually Ilìsa couldn't take it anymore and excused herself to go check on Vesuvia. She found the little girl she'd tripped over standing at the enclosure's edge and gazing at the two snakes. She looked up.

"Oh, hello," Ilìsa said, smiling. "You remember Vesuvia, don't you?" The girl nodded.

"Yeah. Where'd the other one come from?" she asked. Ilìsa chuckled.

"That's Nachtan," she said. "See, Vesuvia's egg was a present from the boy I like. I know, boys are icky, right?" The girl nodded fiercely and Ilìsa chuckled again. "That will change. Eventually they grow up and they act nice and look pretty. Don't you agree that Harry Potter is pretty?" She nodded again.

"Yeah!" she piped.

"See? He's a boy, too. But some boys just take longer to grow up, so you have to be patient. But yes, Vesuvia was a gift and I decided to get a present for him, too. So I got him Nachtan. Do you see how his eyes are the same green as Harry's?"

"Yep! But how come Vesuvia's aren't the same as yours?" the girl asked. Ilìsa smiled at her.

"You're going to be very smart when you get to Hogwarts," she told the girl, who looked proud. "Vesuvia's eyes are red, like mine were a few months ago. But I don't care, I like her the way she is. Would you like to pet her again?" The girl nodded eagerly and Vesuvia slithered up. The girl giggled and patted Vesuvia on the head contentedly before hugging Ilìsa around the knees.

"Thanks!" she squealed. "Bye!" She ran off and Ilìsa shook her head in amazement at the amount of energy young children had. It made her feel old, and she was seventeen! She decided it was time to actually take advantage of this ball and see what Masters there were. She didn't know of any for her three best subjects – incidentally the ones she was beating Hermione in – apart from the subject teachers and they weren't able to take apprentices. She noticed that all of the students were clustered around the younger, better-looking Masters and snorted at their foolishness. Usually age meant experience. Accordingly, she walked towards where she could see a group of elderly Masters (you could see by the badges on their chests their rank) looking sadly towards the younger group.

"Those youngsters get all the apprentices," one sighed. "The young people of today simply don't appreciate age." Ilìsa smiled slightly; the man was an Ancient Runes Master.

"I'd like to think I do," she said mildly. They all looked at her in surprise and she smiled at them. "What? It's not my fault people my age don't get it. I know very well that in a Mastery, age means wisdom and experience, and so here I am."

"Well said, my dear," the Ancient Runes Master said. "Well said. I am Marys Babbling, and before you ask, your professor Babbling is my little sister." Ilìsa inclined her head. "But come along then, sit down and tell us about yourself!" She did as he asked and took a seat before grinning a little.

"What do you want to know?" she asked. The other Masters chuckled and a Charms Master spoke.

"She has you there, Marys," he teased. "I am Laurence Mycroft, and if you could tell me the name of your year's best Charms students, I'd be thankful."

"I am Farrigorn Alder," said a Potions Master, "And I'd take the favour as well." Soon she'd learned the names of all the Masters and smiled at them.

"Well, let's see," she said, thinking, "The best in Transfiguration, Arithmancy, and Herbology is my friend Hermione Granger. She's a Muggleborn but until I came around she was unchallenged academically. I'm beating her in Potions, Charms, and Ancient Runes. We're tied for first in Muggle Studies and my friend Harry – well, Harry Potter obviously – is first in DADA no matter how hard me and Hermione try." The Masters looked impressed.

"You are the top student in three subjects and tied for one more?" asked Alder in surprise. "That is quite an achievement." She smiled.

"Thank you. At the moment Hermione and I are just trying to break the tie in Muggle Studies. Unfortunately, we seem to be evenly matched," she said humorously. "Would you like me to bring her over? She's the one reading a book in the corner. I'd guess she saw the crowd around the younger Masters and assumed they were the only ones." At their behest, she walked up to Mione.

"Mione, come here, I've found better Masters than those young ones," she told the girl, who immediately sprung up and followed her. Unsurprisingly, she'd heard of most of the Masters and was soon embroiled in a discussion with Switch, Pitus Germinus, the Herbology Master, and Acro Tarental, the Arithmancy Master.

"So, have you decided which Mastery to pursue?" Babbling asked, a gleam in his eye. Ilìsa made a face.

"I can't decide between my top three subjects, honestly," she admitted. "I like them all equally and deciding between them has started to give me a headache." Emeric Switch, the Transfiguration Master, chuckled at this, listening in.

"I remember how hard it was to choose myself," he admitted. "I was torn between Transfiguration and Care of Magical Creatures. Eventually my wife – then my girlfriend – told me that if I so much as stepped near a Flobberworm ever again she'd leave me. I chose Transfiguration." Ilìsa laughed.

"Oh, that's precious," she said. "I wish Harry would help, but he's even more uncertain than I am. He's a genius with practical spellwork. I've been wishing I could get him apprenticed to a warlock, he has all of the skills and the moral code as well – but no one can remember the name of the last one. He's stuck between going to the Aurors or taking a Mastery for DADA. I'll probably kill him myself if he picks the Aurors though."

"Why would you want to apprentice him to a warlock?" Switch asked. Ilìsa caught a strange note in his voice but, unable to reason it out, answered anyway.

"Well, for one thing, I know he can do it," she said seriously. "And I don't mean that in the typical hormonal teenager with a crush way. He's no great shakes at classwork, but get him into any sort of situation where he needs to use his knowledge and he suddenly shines. I think a study with a warlock could help him unlock that shining power and use it outside of life-threatening situations – which he has already had too many of," she added dryly, making the three Masters who were listening laugh. "Another thing is more personal. Harry desperately needs training for the war that's on the horizon. The other generations don't really believe me, but I _know_ Voldemort is returning, and that means Harry needs practice, practice he can't get under a regular DADA Master or in the Auror academy, where it takes years to get out into the field." They were nodding in appreciation of this when another voice spoke.

"You have made a good point," a man's voice said, and a spell was ended to reveal a man who looked to be about sixty (though with wizards it was hard to tell) holding a wand to Switch's throat. That explained the tone. He sheathed his wand and sat down. "Sorry about that, Switch, but I needed to make sure without revealing myself." Switch inclined his head and the man turned back to Ilìsa. "Right. I am Oberon Bassus, the last warlock." Her eyes widened in surprise and he inclined his head. "I heard about this Ball and decided to take advantage of it. As young as I look, my time is ending, and I need an apprentice. Your Harry sounds like he will fit the bill, though I'll need to speak with him to make sure." Ilìsa nodded and went looking for him. She practically dragged him over to Bassus.

"Harry, this is the last warlock," she said. She'd explained warlocks a little while ago and he nodded. Bassus examined him.

"Right, boy, tell me why you think you should train under a warlock," he commanded. Harry thought about it for a moment.

"I don't do selling myself," he said firmly. "I will tell you, but I will not say things like 'I am good at this' exaggerated because it is better to be chosen on humble merit than on arrogant lies. I am the best in my year at DADA, but although I can cast spells perfectly, my other classes are inferior because I've found that my magic reacts best, for some reason, when either I or my friends," he put an arm around Ilìsa, "Are in danger. I want to train to be able to use that magic without having one of my friends being attacked by a crazy warmonger. Also, there is the little fact of me being, unfortunately, the Boy-Who-Lived. That means I am a constant target and quite honestly, I know there's no way I'll learn what I need to defend the people who keep asking me to save them with a regular DADA Master or at the Academy." Bassus nodded slowly.

"That is exactly what she said," he said, gesturing to Ilìsa. "I like you, kid. How's this: I give you a chance to fight me. You do well, I train you. You don't, and the knowledge of my identity gets erased from your minds." Harry bit his lip.

"As enticing as the offer is," he said sarcastically, "How do I know you will only erase that which pertains to you? We have to let you into our minds for you to obliviate us properly and I don't trust random people with my head." Bassus nodded in approval and raised his wand.

"I, Oberon Bassus, as warlock, swear on my magic that should I need to obliviate Harry Potter and Ilìsa Riddle after the fight between us I will only erase that which pertains to my identity. So mote it be."

"So mote it be," Harry echoed. "Then I will take your offer."

"Good. I'll surprise you." The man disappeared with a white glow, leaving everyone confused. Harry turned to Ilìsa.

"So, have you decided which subject to do yet?" he asked with a grin. She sighed.

"Not a clue," she admitted. "I'm leaning towards Potions though." Alder looked up. "I mean, I really like Charms and Ancient Runes, but Potions is just… gah, I can't think of a word."

"I'd say that when you can't think of a word is when you feel the strongest," Babbling commented. "Incidentally, is that ring moving?" Ilìsa swore and looked at her ring, which was indeed moving around.

_What the hell?_ Ilìsa hissed at it. It looked up.

_Take Potions. It is Master Slytherin's realm._

_Thank you for the advice, but please do not speak up around those who sneer upon Slytherin's name, _she hissed before looking up. "I apologize. It tends to do that." Mycroft had watched this and he spoke now.

"Who charmed it? I've never seen such powerful charms on a such a small object before," he commented. Ilìsa grimaced.

"Slytherin," she replied, touching the ring lightly. "One of my friends who works as a curse-breaker with the goblins bought it off them. I realized whose it was, put it on, and haven't bothered trying to take it off since." Mycroft looked curious.

"Slytherin, really?" he asked. "I'd always heard that he was more of a Potions man than Charms." Ilìsa nodded.

"And it's true," she agreed. "The ring just counselled me to choose Potions, incidentally. In any case, while Slytherin's true talent did lie in Potions – and maybe a bit of Herbology – he was still a formidable caster. I mean, think about the wards at Hogwarts. Also, according to the legends, each Founder designed their own common room. I hear from my friends in Slytherin that their common room is charmed to do quite a few things." Mycroft nodded.

"I see. Do you know what all of the enchantments are?" he asked. She shook her head.

"No. One is its life, the other its personality – which I assure you is quite distinct – and, as I've found out from another source, another is the ability to discern the wearer's destined love or what have you. Unfortunately, another is its _complete _likeness to a Basilisk, including the eyes, but thankfully it listens to me and I've ordered it not to kill anyone." Mycroft looked vaguely amused now.

"Well, I can tell you that another charm is a powerful shield," he told her. "If you were to know the activation code – it's likely in Parseltongue – it would cast a strong protego on you and whoever you are touching at that moment. There's also some sort of Portkey inside it, also triggered by a code."

"Thank you," Ilìsa said in surprise. "That's very helpful."

"Yep. Well, have you decided yet? You need to go look for a Master if you want to get one, Ilìsa," Harry teased. She smacked his arm and winced.

"I keep forgetting you have muscle there. It seems to hurt me more than you. Anyway," she continued, ignoring the amused looks the Masters were throwing at each other, "I think I will do Potions. It's what I feel most confident with, anyway. I'm good at Charms but not quite so sure of myself." Switch nodded in approval.

"If that's how you feel, then Potions is the way to go," he told her. "If it helps, your professor McGonagall once considered Charms, but felt not quite perfectly at ease with the more difficult ones, such as the Fidelius, which when miscast-"

"Kills the caster and everyone inside the Secret, yes," Ilìsa finished.

"You do know your spells," Switch said. "In any case, she spent quite a while debating with herself before realizing that she was the best at Transfiguration and look where she is now. Though please don't tell anyone, I don't normally make a habit of telling other people's private moments."

"We wouldn't dare anger professor McGonagall," Harry said with lips twitching, "We don't want to end up with tentacles for noses and hands for feet."

"I can see that happening…" Switch muttered. Alder spoke.

"Well, if you are sure about your choice, then I will quiz you. You pass, you get an apprenticeship," he said bluntly. "You fail, I laugh you away from here."

"Works for me," Ilìsa agreed. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

"Good. Name one reason the Draught of Living Death is so expensive."

"Dragonhide reacts negatively with most of the ingredients and yet most of the ingredients will trigger reactions without gloves. Specially-treated gloves are rare and expensive and so the potion itself costs respectively more."

"Correct. Name three ways to manipulate phoenix tears."

"One, tell the phoenix what is injured, two, direct where the tears fall to the injured area, three, use a potion designed to heal the injury and then add the tears. The tears will neutralize the potion while healing that which the potion would have. This also includes things such as scarring, which tears usually cannot heal."

"Correct. Name the key ingredient in anti-venom and antidotes."

"The substance they are meant to counteract."

"Correct again. Name the worst metal in which to brew poisonous and or harmful potions."

"Copper and iron tie. Copper because its reaction to acids is violent and most harmful potions contain at least slightly-acidic ingredients, and iron because even the slightest speck of rust can throw a potion with such acidic ingredients into a large explosion."

"Excellent. Most people don't even know about the acidity part; they just name the metals. Well, I'm satisfied," Alder proclaimed. "If you like, we can write up the contract right away." Ilìsa nodded excitedly. Now that she'd decided, she knew she chose right. They filled out the contract right there, Alder handing her a copy. "Well, say hello to your Potions teacher for me. I taught him as well." Ilìsa whooped.

"Alright, now I finally get to act my age!" she said. "I officially hate formal balls! Thank you, sir!" She bowed slightly to Alder before flouncing off. He blinked and turned to Harry.

"I don't know," Harry replied to the obvious question. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a girlfriend to chase down." The Masters chuckled and Harry followed his girlfriend's figure.


	18. Chapter 18

They returned via Portkey around nine, Ilìsa having said a cheery goodbye to the Malfoys before heading back. She hugged Harry, the contract crinkling in her hand, before heading the other way. Ravenclaw Tower was, perhaps unsurprisingly, located next to the library. The stairs were tedious though, and she wasn't looking forward to it. She turned the corner and narrowly avoided running into Snape. That would have been _bad_. She blinked.

"Good evening, sir," she said evenly. "Master Alder says hello." He blinked as well.

"He's still around, is he?" he asked. Ilìsa nodded.

"Very much so. He was a bit put out when most of the students rushed to flock around the younger Masters. Idiots," she added, shaking her head. Snape seemed to agree.

"They truly are," he agreed. "Alder and his friends are much better than most of the new ones now. Did you find an apprenticeship?" She nodded. "You're with Alder, aren't you." It wasn't a question but she nodded anyway. "Well, I cannot say I am surprised," Snape said dryly. Ilìsa had decided to trust Snape after Vesuvia told her that he was lying when he said he was with Dumbledore. "How did everyone else do?"

"Well, Draco, if you'll pardon the expression, didn't do squat," Snape snorted, unsurprised, "Harry is going to be randomly challenged by a warlock – and I'd appreciate it if that stayed out of the Headmaster's ears," he nodded and Vesuvia hissed that he was truthful, "And when we left, Hermione was in the middle of choosing between Switch and Tarental after having politely declined Germinus." Snape let out a low whistle of surprise.

"You really did find the old Masters," he said. "You and your friends should thank your lucky stars they were there; I am actually surprised Alder and the others are taking apprentices and considered you. Alder actually has a waiting list, if I am not mistaken, of three thousand eight hundred and eighty-three people wishing to take their Masteries with him – and that's just those who have passed his preliminary exam."

"That… is a lot of people." Snape nodded.

"The same goes for the others you named," he said. "They are recognized as being in the world's best three Masters for their areas. If I had to guess, Alder quizzed you?" At her nod, he continued. "Let me guess. Draught of Living Death, phoenix tears, antidotes, and metals?" She nodded once more. "You see, he uses those questions over and over again. Most of them are trick questions. The Draught of Living Death is expensive because of the gloves, as you know, but most people forget about that and will answer with something idiotic such as 'the ingredients are rare'. The phoenix tears question requires you to recognize the obvious _and_ know high-level facts. The question about antidotes is a bit of a joke, but he uses it to see how you think through the phrasing. Finally, the metals is a basic knowledge question that somehow most people can't answer because they don't realize that there is a tie. Also, before I forget, Flitwick sent me to give you this." He handed her a badge and she groaned.

"Sorry, professor, but Padma decided she couldn't allow prefect duties to interfere with her scores and so Flitwick decided that I, with Vesuvia, am the best patroller," she sighed. Snape looked amused.

"I am sure you will survive, Miss Riddle. Good evening." And with that, he swept off, robes billowing and making him look like a giant overgrown bat as usual. Ilìsa wound her way up the stairs, Vesuvia literally snoring (it sounded funny in hissing) on her shoulders. She finally made it to the knocker and knocked it softly.

"Thanks for not banging me. Now, answer this; where do Vanished objects go?" the knocked asked.

"Into non-being," Ilìsa replied, "Which is to say, everything."

"Nice save," the knocker approved before the door swung open and allowed her in. She walked past a group of people who were studying and was accosted by a second-year.

"Can you tell us about the Masters? Please?" she asked. Ilìsa looked at the hopeful group of five and sighed, pulling out a chair.

"Alright, but quietly, since Vesuvia is sleeping," she replied. The second years nodded and sat quietly. If there was one thing Ravenclaws excelled at, it was keeping quiet. "Now, there were two groups of Masters. Most of the students gathered around the younger ones, but Harry, Hermione and I spoke with the old ones, the ones who taught our professors." The second-years were absolutely captivated. "Tell me, have any of you heard of Emeric Switch and Farrigorn Alder?" They gaped and one raised her hand. Amused, Ilìsa pointed at her.

"Emeric Switch is in the top three Transfiguration Masters of the world, as is Farrigorn Alder for Potions, and Switch wrote several textbooks," the girl recited.

"Correct. Now, believe it or not, they and all of the other world class Masters, like Tarantel, Germinus, Marys Babbling, and Mycroft, were there and sitting alone in a corner because the silly geese-students thought they were old and daft. They're very wise, and certainly know their subjects well." One of the other second years raised his hand and, once again amused by the classroom feeling, Ilìsa nodded at him.

"Did you get apprenticed to one of them?" he asked. Ilìsa nodded and showed them Alder's contract.

"Alder quizzed me before taking me on. I later heard from Professor Snape, who was his last apprentice, that Alder has over three thousand people who passed his preliminary exam on his waiting list. Apparently all of the others do too. Hermione was busy choosing between Tarantel and Switch when I left." They stared at her in a sort of hero-worship and Ilìsa nodded at the next who raised their hand.

"But how come none of the other Ravenclaws caught on? How come all of them went to see the younger Masters?" he asked quietly.

"That is a very good question. You see, sometimes, even Ravenclaws make mistakes. This is one of them, and it won't kill them, but it cost them a chance. So learn from them and remember to always think before you act. Though, then again, some people had no choice, like those who wanted to study Care of Magical Creatures or Defense Against the Dark Arts, as the only Masters there for that subject were the younger ones. Any more questions?"

"You're the new prefect, right?" asked one girl.

"Yes. How did you know?"

"Professor Flitwick mentioned it in class. Anyway, my question is, is there any way you could get the Gryffindors to stop making fun of us? The ones in our class keep calling us nerds when the teacher isn't looking." The other four nodded in agreement.

"What class was this?"

"History of Magic, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Herbology," the girl reported. "And by the way, my name's Lisa Mainwaring, these are Alan Hoffman, Suzie Liu, Marie Summers, and Maxim Lawrence."

"Thank you, I was about to ask for your names. Now, the thing is, Lisa, if the teachers didn't hear, then this becomes a he-said, she-said problem," Ilìsa said. She held up a hand. "_But_, I will report it to those three teachers – well, except Binns, anyway – and I will expect them to listen closely. However, that might not work, and my best advice is either to ignore them and take pride in knowing things or pull a Slytherin, you could say, and twist their words against them. For instance, if someone calls you, Suzie, a 'nerdy foreigner' – has someone done that? – anyway, you could respond by saying 'if you're calling me nerdy, it means you find me more intelligent than you by comparison. So, thank you for the compliment'. You see?" They smiled widely.

"That's so cool!" Alan exclaimed. "Only, it's hard." Ilìsa shrugged.

"It takes practice, like anything else," she admitted. "Admittedly, I might have it easier, what with being related to Slytherin and all. But no matter what, if they say anything truly insulting, something that makes you feel truly awful, you _must_ come to me immediately and I will deal with it. Clear?" They all nodded, faces shining. "Yes, Marie?"

"Well, I wanted to say thank you," she said seriously. "A lot of the prefects tend to ignore the problem in favour of studying for a few extra minutes. The fact that you stopped to tell us about the Ball and then explain how to deal with things means a lot." Ilìsa smiled at her.

"Well, Marie, you're very welcome," she said. "And if you ever need to just talk about something, I don't know, you feel lonely or homesick, you're bored, heck, even if you feel like turning to the Dark side, come and talk to me. I'll keep it private no matter what you say and you can get everything off your chest. Now come here, everybody give me a hug, and go off to bed. As annoying as it is to be told it, your bodies are still small and need the sleep."

"We don't want to ruin your robes, though! They're so nice," Maxim said seriously. Ilìsa chuckled.

"Trust me, guys, the lady who gave them to me for Christmas would love to hear that, but seriously, give me a hug," she told him. They all beamed and gave her a hug before running upstairs. She sighed and followed the girls up, passing their dormitory where she could hear happy giggling. She made it to her own and got through the laborious task of washing off the makeup, removing the six-stud earrings, untying her hair, changing out of the dress robes, and generally de-beautifying herself. When she finished, she locked the contract in her trunk before falling onto her bed and going out like a light – she was that tired.

She woke up with a sigh and got ready for class, cursing the idiots who had scheduled the ball on a bloody Sunday. She assembled her things, got Vesuvia, and headed down for breakfast after waking up the other girls, who were about to miss it by sleeping in.

She passed through the classes in a bit of a blur. McGonagall was still teaching Animagi and had given her permission to practice transforming little bits of herself into her animal at the back of the class. (It turned out her animal was a now-extinct semi-magical bird called the Stymphalian hawk because it looked like the ones Hercules had fought.) In Charms, while the others were practicing, she approached Flitwick.

"Ah, hello, my dear!" he squeaked, seeing her badge. "I see Severus got you the badge!"

"Yes, he did," Ilìsa said. "Professor, some of the second year Ravenclaws approached me last night. Apparently, the Gryffindors have been calling them 'nerds' while your back is turned." Flitwick looked slightly angry, a great feat for the little wizard. "Also with History of Magic, but I can't do anything about that, and Herbology – I'm going to tell professor Sprout. I also told them that because it hasn't been heard, it's a he-said she-said situation and instructed them to either ignore the words and take pride in knowing how much they do or to pull a Slytherin and twist the insults against the speaker." He looked at her in approval.

"Wonderful!" he said. "I will be listening closely to that class, thank you. But that was very kind of you, to stay and speak with them." She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, one of them ran up after breakfast and told me how you told them stories, life lessons, and then gave them each a hug before sending them up to bed. If you don't mind me saying so, my dear, I'd think you were either a mother or a teacher in the making." She smiled, she really did like the little wizard, whatever people might say about goblin blood.

"Well, I couldn't just leave them there," she said, brow furrowing. "And, as to that last bit, I'd say thank you for the compliment to one and I hope so to the other."

"Which one is which?" he asked with a large smile. She made a face.

"Now that I think about it, I have no idea," she admitted. The bell rang. "Oh. Bye, professor!" And she hurried off to Herbology, where she stopped to have a chat with Sprout.

"Professor, may I speak with you for a moment?" she asked. Sprout turned, wiped her earthy hands on the apron she wore for that purpose, and nodded in a go-ahead motion. "Some second-year Ravenclaws came up to me last night saying that the Gryffindors in their classes have been calling them nerds while the teacher's back was turned. This was one of them and I thought you should know. I have told them how to deal with it all, but nevertheless..." She nodded before remembering something.

"Oh yes, I was there when that little second year told Filius about how you told them stories," she said with a motherly smile. "That made me smile. Did the Hat consider you for Hufflepuff?"

"Not to be disrespectful, but what it said sounded like 'Huf-NO'," she informed the teacher, who chuckled.

"And people say it is easy to get into Hufflepuff," she sighed. Ilìsa shook her head.

"No, it's not," she agreed. "Being that accepting and loyal is hard. I don't have the… well, broad spectrum a Hufflepuff needs; I'm a very picky and choosy person." Sprout chuckled again and the class passed peacefully.

Potions class was amusing. Snape billowed in as usual, but then called, "How many of you got apprenticed in Potions?" It was embarrassing because in the fairly large class, Ilìsa was the only one. "Well then, none of you should be chattering like you just were. Seeing as only Miss Riddle managed to impress a Potions Master enough to apprentice with them, the rest of you should be quietly reading through your books; yet, for some reason, you were chattering away without a care in the world. Smith!" The officious-looking boy jumped. "What would happen if someone with a burn injury was given phoenix tears after putting Burn Salve on the wound?" He stammered.

"Er… nothing?"

"Specify."

"Um, the phoenix tears wouldn't do anything?"

"Incorrect. Does anyone _other_ than Miss Riddle know?" Snape demanded, glaring about the room. No one moved and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Miss Riddle, answer the question, if you will."

"The phoenix tears would neutralize the Salve, causing it to do nothing positive or negative, while repairing the injury itself," Ilìsa said. Snape nodded.

"Correct. Take five points for not sounding like you read that out of a textbook. Which you all should have done, considering that that fact is mentioned in the chapter I assigned you to read! Who read it?" About half the class raised their hands, and Ilìsa, deciding to be honest, didn't. Snape didn't remark on this, but Smith, evidently smarting, did.

"Sir! Riddle didn't read it!" he said with a triumphant look. Snape rolled his eyes.

"I am aware of that, Mr. Smith," he said icily. "What would you have me do? Take three points from her House? Because then I would have to do it to everyone who did not read the assigned chapter, and if you look around, you will notice most who did not are in your House. Now that you've proven what dunderheads you are, on to brewing. You will be starting the first step of the Polyjuice potion, the base. The instructions are on the board, the ingredients where they always are. Begin."

Ilìsa hummed as she worked, Vesuvia hissing along to the random tune that always seemed to sound like 'Yankee Doodle' no matter what song she started out with. Smith seemed to hate on her constantly now; he had ever since Dumbledore announced her identity. Unlike the rest of the Hufflepuffs, he seemed to ignore the fact that Ilìsa had seemingly 'reformed' and she would enjoy paying him back in kind when things changed. And so class went on.


	19. Chapter 19

A day later

Ilìsa decided to take advantage of being a prefect and went to the prefect's bathroom, planning on taking a bath and listening to the awful screeching in the egg. Water always helped her think, and who knew, maybe the acoustics would help her? She opened the door to find the air steamy and to hear a cheery hello.

"Hello, Ilìsa!" Hermione greeted. Ilìsa peered through the steam and realised that what at first looked like a giant swimming pool was actually the bath, judging by the innumerable taps and all the strange variants of foam on the water – the water couldn't be seen through the football-shaped and other kinds of bubbles. She saw Hermione's head resting on the edge of the pool – she'd just decided to call it that – on the other side. "Come on in, there's plenty of room, obviously," Hermione continued. "It's a bit like what I imagine skinny-dipping is. Oh, and do me a favour, tell the door that it's occupied. I forgot and didn't want to leave the water, so I'm glad you were the one who came in." Ilìsa turned and did so, noting that the portrait on the other side froze. She turned back to Hermione.

"Why so glad it's me?" she asked. The girl shrugged.

"Well, I'm supposed to be a shy bookworm, and if it had been anyone else, I would have had to act that. I can act comfortable in my own skin since you know exactly who I am," she explained. Ilìsa pondered that and shrugged before nodding and heading to the changing part of the room.

"And it's a very pretty skin too," she called as she walked. "I mean, you're tanned, it looks nice. I, on the other hand, look like a frostbitten albino." She could hear Hermione laughing.

"Well, that's a look too," the other girl called back. Ilìsa took the egg and headed to the pool before slipping in. "After all, if you look at all the purebloods, they're all sporting the Victorian 'pale-face' look. You don't even have to try for that." Ilìsa snorted as she joined Hermione's side, finding there was a seating ridge below the surface and sitting beside her.

"Yes, well, thank you I suppose. By the way, do you have _any _idea what the hell this is?" she asked, gesturing to the egg. Hermione took it.

"No. Harry opened it once and didn't try again with me around, said he didn't want to cost me my hearing," the other girl said. "Maybe it'll work in here? Better acoustics, after all."

"Be my guest."

Hermione opened it and the shriek surprised her so much she dropped it. The strange thing was, as soon as it submerged, the shriek turned to an eerie singing. Both girls gaped and Ilìsa took a deep breath before submerging herself as well. It took her three breaths to memorize the entire song and she closed the egg, sitting again.

"What was that?" Hermione asked. Ilìsa thought about it.

"Something that sings underwater, screeches above ground," she mused. Her eyes caught the portrait of a trident-wielding sea god with a tail, who winked at her and flashed his muscles. "Merfolk. There are Merfolk in the Black Lake. Oh _fuck._"

"What's so bad about Merpeople?" Hermione asked. Ilìsa groaned in irritation.

"The poem is as follows," she said before reciting the entire thing. "So, basically, I have to survive underwater for an hour. Tell that to Harry as well, he'll need as much time as me to get this right." Hermione and Ilìsa sat back, occasionally scrubbing a little, but mostly thinking. They were disrupted when a ghost of a girl dressed in old-looking robes zoomed out from a tap. Hermione glared at her.

"Myrtle, people expect privacy when they take baths," she said. The girl giggled and Ilìsa found herself wondering if ghosts could be hexed.

"Yes, always drive away Myrtle, ugly Myrtle," the ghost said, sighing and sinking through the water to sit beside Ilìsa. Ilìsa's white skin turned impossibly lighter. "Ooh, you're pale. Should go outside more often." Ilìsa shifted uncomfortably; Myrtle's freezing shoulder was going through her arm.

"It's hereditary," she managed. "Is there a reason you haunt bathrooms?" Myrtle shrieked and she had a vague feeling that was the wrong question. Hermione spoke up.

"Myrtle, it's not her fault, she's new at the school, it's her first year here," she explained to the ghost. "She doesn't know about the Chamber or anything." Ilìsa closed her eyes. Of course. This was Myrtle, the Myrtle who had been killed the first time the Chamber of Secrets was opened – by her father. She opened them again to find Myrtle examining her closely.

"Look, I'm sorry about bringing that up," she said, shivering slightly, "But I didn't know." Myrtle zoomed a bit closer.

"You look so familiar, though," she mused. "I've never seen you before, and yet your face is familiar… have you had any relatives here?"

"Er, a few a really, really long time ago," Ilìsa said, telling the truth. "I grew up in Canada." Myrtle was instantly sidetracked.

"Ooh, Canada," she said. "That's so interesting! But I have to go now, someone just walked into my bathroom." And she zoomed up the tap and disappeared. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

"There's no stopping her, that one," she groaned. "Are you alright?" Ilìsa checked her arm, which had returned to its usual white.

"Well, no frostbite, no ghost screaming at me for being me, I think I'm good." She sank deeper into the hot water and sighed in relief. "Oh that feels good. I haven't realized how much stress I've been feeling. Mione, do me a favour and speak with your second years. They've been calling mine nerds in half their classes and it's upsetting them."

"Of course I will," Hermione said firmly. "After all, I remember being called that in first year. It hurts sometimes. Those second years better hope yours don't say anything else. Now, about the egg, do you have any ideas?" Ilìsa thought again. Five minutes later, she spoke.

"Well, there is the Bubble-head Charm," she said. "But the Lake is huge, and freezing, so to find whatever they take in an hour, I'd need to simultaneously maintain that, a warming charm, and a speed charm while also fighting off whatever lives in there. That's not likely."

"Hm. Well, there is always Transfiguration," Hermione suggested. "You could do some sort of half-change like a fish or something." Ilìsa pondered that and brightened.

"I've been training Animagus with McGonagall, so I've got human transfiguration down pat now," she said, grabbing her wand. "If I fail, it's up to you to save me, laugh and I hex you!" She started concentrating and tapped her neck before choking. She dived into the water and felt the air flow with relief. She waved up at Hermione, who was vaguely visible through the slowly-clearing foam. Hermione looked down in amusement and Ilìsa tapped her neck again, rising above the surface panting slightly.

"Well, you can do the breathing," Hermione observed. "Why not give yourself a tail and fins while you're at it?" Ilìsa pondered that.

"Well, not fins, because I need hands to hold my wand," she said. "I could give myself a tail, though, and swim mermaid-style. Hang on a minute." She focused again and tapped her legs. They shimmered before transforming into what she'd visualized. She winced. "That bloody hurt. I just remembered, some snakes have this epic second eyelid that helps underwater so that too… actually, I'm probably going to leave that, it doesn't hurt…" She tapped her eyes and her neck again, winced, and then choked once more before diving into the water with a colossal splash. She looked up and realized the second eyelid was working, as were the gills. Ilìsa grinned widely and began practicing her swimming, doing laps in seconds. She cancelled the transfigurations – except the eyelid, which she intended to keep as it was invisible but could come in handy - and popped up next to the other girl. "Thanks, Mione. You might want to tell Harry to try Gillyweed, though, since he isn't so handy with Transfiguration. Snape might have some."

"Okay. Now we should probably go, it's getting late," Hermione said with amusement, gesturing to the sunset sky in the window. Ilìsa snorted in agreement before both got out of the tub, completely unself-conscious. Hermione opened a wardrobe full of various House towels and bathrobes and tossed one of the blue and bronze ones at Ilìsa. She caught the two items. "Wear the bathrobe under your robes so you don't catch a cold. The house elves take them back here afterwards." Ilìsa dried her hair with difficulty and sighed when she saw the frizzy mess in the mirror. "Huh. You look like me. If your hair is naturally that… big, how do you make it so smooth and wavy usually?"

"Oh. There's a quick charm for that that lasts two weeks, though why you'd go that long without a bath or a shower I don't know." She quickly showed Hermione the incantation and, upon trying it, the other girl promptly declared her the best friend in the world. They got dressed and walked out of the bathroom, smiling.

"That was fun," Hermione said. "Remind me never to forget to lock the door again."

"How am I supposed to do that unless I'm with you?"

"Good point."

They never noticed the girl in the corner, watching with wide eyes.


	20. Chapter 20

The next morning

"Ilìsa, thanks for the herb tip," Harry said. He had decided to sit with the Ravenclaws once and the teachers hadn't given a fig. "I asked the guy who had it and he – after some snarky comments, mind, though I'd be shocked if there weren't any – gave it to me." Ilìsa looked up and caught Snape's gaze, smiling slightly. He took the thanks and turned away. Ilìsa was about to say something back when one of her second years – she'd started to think of the five that way – ran up, almost in tears. She instantly pulled the girl into a hug.

"Suzie, what's wrong?" she asked softly. Suzie sniffled.

"It's all the older kids!" she cried. "They're all saying mean things about you!" Ilìsa's brow furrowed.

"Oh. What did they say, Suzie?" she asked, trying to figure out what happened. Suzie hiccupped.

"They said, they said you're doing wrong things with the Head Girl," she whispered. Ilìsa's jaw fell even as she understood.

"Aw, Suzie, thanks for telling me. It makes me feel nice to know that you care enough about me that this made you cry," she told the girl softly. "I assure you I am not. I'm quite happy with my boyfriend. Now why don't you dry those tears and go back to your breakfast, hmm?" Suzie nodded and gave her one last squeeze before running off again. Ilìsa turned back to the table with a slightly shell-shocked look on her face. "Of all things," she muttered.

"How on earth did they come to the conclusion that you and Mione are… er… going at it?" Harry finally choked out. Ilìsa sighed.

"Well, where did you think we figured out the egg clue?" she asked. "Prefect's bathroom. Mione and I are good friends, so we happened to be in the room at the same time, big deal. But apparently someone saw us, mistook what they heard, and is now sure we're… gah! Even the idea burns!" The Ravenclaws who heard this passed it down the table until it reached the end, when it spread to the others. Nobody really wanted to cross Ilìsa or Harry so they quickly shut it about the rumours. The teachers looked vaguely confused, since rumours rarely got to them, but McGonagall was shaking her head. Apparently someone had told her. She caught Ilìsa's eyes and nodded when the girl raised her eyes to heaven.

"I don't even want to go there," Harry agreed. "How people can think you're… er… oh bugger it, lesbian, when you have a steady boyfriend is beyond me."

"Unless they think you're actually a cross-dresser," Ilìsa muttered darkly. Harry choked on his eggs and she pounded him on the back absently. "Alright there?"

"Fine," he gasped. He caught his breath. "Please don't ever say that again."

"You bet. Now then, how's your Animagus practice going?"

"Well, my form's still unknown, because none of the characteristics really fit me," Harry admitted. "All I know so far is that I'm some sort hawk or eagle. McGonagall reckons it's a golden eagle, but she isn't sure."

"Well, I hope you figure it out. It's much easier once you know what the entire thing looks like," Ilìsa commented. "Hey look, here's the Prophet." Harry unfolded it.

"And here's to peace, because it's going bye-bye," he said, showing her the title. _Dark Mark Seen Over Surrey. _"Surrey. Why does that mean something do me?"

"Do you live there or something?" He froze and read through the article quickly before cursing.

"I _did_," he said. "I don't know what Dumbledore's going to do with me now. See, there were some sort of blood wards on the Dursleys' house, but as soon as I turned of age, they dissipated. I guess someone took advantage of that. The Dursleys survived, but the house burned down. Poor Dudders, no World of Warcraft for him."

"He played WoW?"

"Unfortunately."

"Thick as a pig."

"What's wow?" asked a dreamy voice. Ilìsa turned to see Luna Lovegood.

"Not wow, World of Warcraft," she began to explain the concept of a video game. Luckily, Luna was a bit strange and somehow understood it. But when other wizard-raised people started asking, things went haywire.


	21. Chapter 21

February 14th

"Coming, Ilìsa?" Harry asked, Nachtan around his shoulders. Ilìsa still couldn't understand how he carried the black snake; he seemed to have grown to the same size as Nagini and as Ilìsa knew from the unfortunate experience of waking up to Nagini coiled up on her, that was _heavy_. She fastened her cloak.

"Coming, hold your horses," she muttered, following him out to the carriages that took them to Hogsmeade. Thankfully, St. Valentine's day had fallen on a weekend and, as Harry informed her, that spared her from Dumbledore's idea of 'interior decorating'. She patted the Thestral's flank as she climbed in and it nickered.

They set off and Ilìsa turned to look at who else was in the carriage when she registered that there were two terrified first year Slytherins. She ran a hand over her face before smiling at them.

"It's all right, we have no reason to hurt you," she told them. They relaxed slightly until one spoke up.

"But Malfoy insulted you!" he said, pointing at Harry, who shrugged.

"Yeah, he tends to do that. A lot," he said with a bit of a smile. "Truth is, we don't really hate each other anymore. We both got so bored of that we're cordial. He just insults me because it's funny."

"Well, not quite," Ilìsa interrupted. "Malfoy does… dislike Harry, but they don't hate each other. Mostly because Malfoy is a good friend of mine and knows that if he's not at least cordial to my boyfriend he'll get hexed." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Thank you for making me look like I can't defend myself," he said in exasperation. The two Slytherin boys were laughing at their bickering and one pointed at them.

"You argue like my mum and dad do!" he said, laughing. Both snorted.

"I'm sure we do," Harry replied, draping an arm around Ilìsa's shoulders. "That happens when two people like each other very much; they start arguing, only it's not real arguing but more teasing."

"Girls are gross!" the other one said, wrinkling his nose. He looked up. "No offense." Ilìsa chuckled and waved it off.

"None taken. I assure you most of the girls in your year think boys are gross too," she answered. "It's what happens when you're younger. Then the boys grow up, the girls get to know them, and things change."

"Well, I'm fine with things the way they are right now!" the boy declared. The carriage came to a halt and they all stepped out, Ilìsa giving the Thestral a slap on the flank in thanks. The students spilled towards Hogsmeade like a black tide and Ilìsa noticed a great crowd around one colourful building.

"WWW," she sighed. "Do you have _any _idea how many Skiving Snackboxes to confiscate?"

"None. You're a Ravenclaw," Harry replied before grinning. "Now let's go get some stuff! Fred and George wrote to say they'll be here personally!"

"Oh heck yeah, screw my badge, let's go!" Ilìsa cried, and both of them ran helter-skelter down to the store, which, it turned out, was having its grand opening. Fred and George were presiding with a comically-large pair of scissors and they waved the two over when they caught sight of them.

"Everybody, we give you-"

"Our prime investor, Harry Potter-"

"And the driving force behind our gum-related products, Ilìsa Riddle!" They declared. Everybody cheered and Fred cut the ribbon with the scissors and had to step back as the kids flooded into the store. He shook his head in amusement.

"Boy, are they ever eager," he mumbled before catching sight of Ilìsa's badge. "Woah, sis! When'd you go Percy?" She made a face at him.

"Shut up, brother unfortunately mine," she scolded. "For your information, Padma quit because it was affecting her grades and Flitwick made me accept. It's hard to say no to him." The twins nodded.

"Hey, you two mind helping out the staff? We weren't expecting quite so many kids," George asked. Both shrugged and trooped in, opening another two spots to pay. They were soon swamped, and, once the wave was over, the four looked at the nearly-empty store in silence.

"Well. You made quite a bit, I'd say. Luckily Ravenclaws don't skive, or I'd be going Molly on you now," Ilìsa commented. Both paled but recovered as Parvati and Padma walked in.

"Hello Harry, Ilìsa," they said together before turning to the other set of twins. "You two coming?" The red-head twins grinned.

"You bet!" Each one linked arms with one of the girls and they paraded off. The staff, evidently newly-hired, stared for a moment and then turned to Harry and Ilìsa.

"Are they always like that?" one asked faintly. Ilìsa smiled broadly.

"Oh yes. And we wouldn't have them any other way!" she declared before she and Harry walked out. They walked slowly through Hogsmeade, the snow starting to fall but very lightly. It was a fairly warm day for February and it made for a nice scene. They strolled along the road before Harry shivered.

"I swear you're impermeable to cold," he said. "Let's go to the Three Broomsticks, I'm freezing." Ilìsa followed Harry. Perhaps it wasn't so warm after all. He led her to a cheery bar where a large number of the students were drinking Butterbeer. They sat down at an empty table. "Do you want something?"

"I'll give in to peer pressure and go with Butterbeer," she decided. "If you decide on Firewhiskey, you'd better control yourself." He made a face at her before turning to face a blonde woman who'd walked up. "Hiya, Rosmerta." She winked at him. Ilìsa would have gotten angry if it weren't for the fact that she realized that the woman did it to everyone.

"Hello, Harry," she replied. "What can I get you?" Harry leaned back, grinning.

"A Butterbeer and a Firewhiskey, please," he said. She nodded and disappeared, returning with the drinks a moment after. The two paid and popped them open. Ilìsa watched as Harry took a drink of the alcohol and smiled.

"That burns," he said, "But after that cold, I don't really mind. Don't worry, I usually never drink this stuff." Ilìsa nodded and poured some of the Butterbeer into the cap for Vesuvia. She'd learned to give the snake some of her food or drink whenever it was sweet. Vesuvia lapped at it like a cat before looking up.

_Master, a strange not-woman comes, _she hissed. Ilìsa blinked in puzzlement and looked to see what looked like a normal, albeit unnaturally beautiful, woman walk in. _She has no heartbeat yet smells of blood. _

"Oh. I get it now, Vesuvia," Ilìsa said, scratching the snake's head. _It is a blood-sucker, a vampire. We do not confront it unless it approaches us first. _The vampire shoved by their table and as she did so, a parcel fell from her pocket. _What is it?_

_It smells of… strange metals and stranger bloods,_ the snake hissed in confusion, tongue flickering. Ilìsa pulled out the Voldemort card.

_A vampire woman dropped this parcel for us, _she said, showing it, _and Vesuvia says it smells of strange metals and bloods. Is this your doing?_

_Yes. I need you to fill one of the little containers with your blood, and find a way to get one of blood from a Light fanatic. Lucius is aiding me in resurrecting myself and tells me that if I was to do the ritual with the blood of just any enemy and just the bone of my father, I would come back as this, _the card gestured to its snake-like features. _But if I do it with the blood of a true enemy, the bone of my father, and the blood of my daughter, I __**should**__ come out right._

_Oh. Alright then. _Ilìsa slipped the package into her robe pocket and resumed sipping away at her Butterbeer. "Harry, when's the second task again?"

"Um, March 1st, why?" he asked. She shrugged.

"I forgot. Besides, I was trying to figure out what the third task will be and I need to complete the second."

"Oh. You know, the confusing thing is, it says that it'll take what we value most, but what happens when the thing we value most is another champion?"

"Thanks, I guess," Ilìsa muttered. "We'd be sent to retrieve the second-most liked thing. Duh."

"Well excuse me for not knowing the brains of the organizers inside and out. You really had them at the first task; I've never see people that embarrassed. Anyway, let's go back outside, I have enough Firewhiskey to last me through the great and horrible winter."

"Bull, you'll complain about the cold in like thirty seconds, just you watch," Ilìsa retorted, pulling her cloak on again. "Besides, what kind of example are you setting for the little students? They come out and see Harry Potter drinking and they all follow you. You've gotta think ahead a bit more than you do right now."

"I can always try, right?" Harry asked, smiling slightly. Ilìsa snorted and they left the bar to stroll along as before. "Hey, what's with the crowd around the parchment store?" Ilìsa peered in that direction and discerned a large group of students clustered around the entrance. She shrugged.

"I don't know, but let's go find out, shall we?" she asked. Harry shrugged as well and they ambled towards it. When they reached the crowd, Ilìsa spoke up. "Someone mind telling us what's going on?" One of the students turned at her voice and Ilìsa saw that it was Smith.

"There's a phoenix in there giving a feather for a quill, and we're hoping to be the ones it chooses to have it, obviously," he sneered. "But you might as well leave, with your blood it'll just try to peck your eyes out." Vesuvia hissed and Smith paled as Ilìsa sneered back.

"Don't piss her off, there's only so much control I have over her when my blood is partially _Light Elf_ and _Dumbledore's_," she mocked. (It wasn't true, but heck, it sounded true.) "And I will have you know that Fawkes liked me even before I was adopted – so shut up about my blood before I start in on yours." He blanched further and turned back around. There was a burst of beautiful song that managed to hurt Ilìsa's ears slightly – she figured it was the pure Lightness of it – and a phoenix flew above the crowd for a moment. It caught sight of Harry and promptly landed on his head. The owner of the store bustled out and grinned.

"Well, Harry Potter, no surprises there," he chuckled. The phoenix trilled an agreement and the man gestured for Harry to follow. "Come on in then, there's a quill waiting for you." Harry shrugged at Ilìsa and walked in after the man. The others muttered dejectedly and Ilìsa took the opportunity.

"And all of you," she said in her kind voice, "I've heard a lot of you saying Harry's going Dark because of Nachtan – that's his snake," she added at their looks of confusion. "But see, a phoenix just chose him above all of you, so please take that as proof that he isn't, all right?" They nodded slowly in acceptance of this and the crowd dispersed just as Harry returned with two parcels in hand. He walked up to Ilìsa.

"Well, I saw this in there beside the phoenix feather and I got it for you," he said, handing her one. She opened the wrapping slightly and smiled when she saw the deep blue quill. She took it in one hand and hugged him.

"Thanks, Harry," she said before pulling back and peering at the sky. "The carriages will be leaving soon, we ought to go." He nodded and they started to head back up the street when Fred and George accosted them.

"You two forgot to take anything!" Fred mock-scolded. He handed each a small box. "That's charmed to get it through Filch, but when you are just tap it once and say-"

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Harry finished. Fred grinned at him.

"Precisely, old chap," he said.

"Well, we have a store to frantically restock," George said, "So we'll be off. Incidentally, Ilìsa, do you have any idea how Dad suddenly ended up Department Head?"

"The fact that you ask means you know the answer already," Ilìsa replied with a small smile. "As I told Harry, it's a matter of who holds what over whose head when."

"And that is why we're shocked you're a Ravenclaw – well, not really, you'd have had to leave if you were put in Slytherin. Anyway, toodle-oo!" And with that the twins disappeared. The pair of somewhat shell-shocked (the twins tended to do that) Hogwarts students shook their heads before continuing to walk towards the end of Hogsmeade, where they found the carriages filling quickly. Ilìsa, following her little tradition, scratched the ears of one of the Thestrals as they walked past it and into an empty carriage. Hermione followed them in, followed quickly by Draco. Ilìsa raised an eyebrow at them.

"Oh please don't start," Hermione pleaded. "Do you have any idea how many times I heard 'wow, I never thought Malfoy would be interested in a Muggleborn' and its variations today?" Harry snorted.

"Quite a few," he agreed. "Say, Draco, how has your team been going?" Within seconds, the two boys were in a roaring argument over which professional Quidditch team was better. Ilìsa gaped for a moment before turning to an equally-bewildered Hermione.

"Boys," they chorused before Ilìsa shook her head.

"By the way, I forgot to ask, did you choose Switch or Tarantel?" she asked the other girl. Hermione beamed.

"I chose Switch," she said, "Because as much as I love Arithmancy, I love the feeling of casting spells far more and so I went with Transfiguration. But I did get Padma over and she seemed to be impressing Tarantel quite well."

"Where on earth did you find world-class Masters?" Draco gaped. Ilìsa smirked at him.

"Well, while you were doing, as I told Snape, squat, I found Switch, Germinus, Alder, Tarantel, Mycroft, and Marys Babbling sitting at a table in boredom because all of the students flocked to the younger Masters. I got into a huge conversation with all of them, and then pulled in Hermione, who, as she just said, is now apprenticed to Emeric Switch, skipping his thousands-long waiting list." Hermione gaped.

"I didn't know that," she stammered. Ilìsa chuckled.

"I ran into Snape afterwards – well, I nearly did it literally, but thankfully I'm not that clumsy," Ilìsa specified. "I told him Alder was still around – Snape was his last apprentice, would you believe – and he told me Alder and his friends have waiting lists of thousands of people – those who have already passed their preliminary exam."

"Oh. But all they did was ask me a few questions," Hermione said in confusion. Ilìsa nodded.

"Same with Alder," she agreed. "Snape knows the questions by heart. There were four, but most of them were trick questions or a question designed to see how you think through your wording of the answer." Draco gaped again.

"Wait a minute," he managed. "Who are you apprenticed to?"

"Farrigorn Alder, why?" Ilìsa asked with a smirk. "You know, Mycroft probably would have liked you." He banged his forehead on the wall.

"Damn it!" he whined. Ilìsa snorted.

"I'm sure you'll see them again. Fudge seems to have decided to make these Balls a yearly thing and your family is always guaranteed an invite," Ilìsa pointed out. Draco thought about it before nodding. "Now, I feel the carriage slowing, so pretend you're furious at having to sit beside a Muggleborn and hold your tongue, will you?" Draco promptly assumed that look and stormed out of the carriage in spectacular fashion, making everyone laugh.

"I have a feeling we'll be seeing quite a bit of each other after Hogwarts," Hermione observed. "Switch and Alder seem to be very good friends."

"Hm. That'd be cool."


	22. Chapter 22

March 1st

Ilìsa stood with the others at the water's edge. Gabrielle was shivering already – and she hadn't even touched the water yet. Ilìsa was restraining a sneer with difficulty as Bagman began his shouting.

"Welcome, everyone, to the second task of the Tournament!" he shouted. "The rankings are as follows: in first place, Ilìsa Riddle, with fifty points, in second place, Harry Potter, with forty-five points, and in third place, Gabrielle Delacour, with thirty points. Champions, you may… BEGIN!" Ilìsa idly wondered how Bagman was going to commentate on what happened in the water before pulling out her wand and transfiguring her gills and tail and falling into the water with a splash. She'd also researched how to transfigure her ears and voice-box so they worked underwater – that had been quite hard to find, but she eventually just researched merpeople's physiology and taken that to heart. She cast a quick warming charm on herself, as she had no idea how the merpeople survived the freezing cold, and swam forward. It wasn't that hard, with a tail as large as hers it took a single stroke to travel meters.

She swam past a bunch of grass when she heard a noise and slapped her tail wildly towards it, turning in time to see a stunned-looking Grindylow float by. She clenched her hand around her wand and spat at it before swimming onwards. Ilìsa heard a warped hissing and looked up to see a gigantic serpent. She swam back in alarm, but it only laughed.

_You is a speaker, _the serpent said, sounding oddly like house elves did in English.

_Yes. What do you want from me? _Ilìsa hissed back. It sighed.

_Tell the fish-humans to stop attacking me,_ it asked. _I do not mean to harm them, but they throw their spears at me._

_Very well. Now, in return, do you think you could point me in the direction of the merpeople's village? _Ilìsa asked archly. The snake laughed again and pointed with its snout. Ilìsa swam forward quickly until she met a group of merpeople standing outside their homes. She stopped.

'The giant serpent asks you to stop attacking it,' she said, noting she sounded like she was speaking Mermish. Maybe she'd done her transfiguring too well. 'It says it does not mean to harm you or your village.' They looked surprised.

'You can understand us and the snake?' one asked in confusion. She shrugged.

'I understand all serpents and some of their cousins, it is a family skill,' she explained. 'As to you, as soon as I heard your song I realized I would have to transfigure myself. I researched how merfolk survive and made the necessary adjustments. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a challenge to win.' They beamed widely and cheered her on as she swam forward. She'd have to get to know these people, they seemed nice. Ahead, she saw three people bound to a rock spire. One was an adult woman with pale blonde hair; Ilìsa assumed this was Gabrielle's sister, Fleur. She looked at the other two and bit her lip. One was Hermione, the other was Padma. While she cared for both of them, she knew Harry didn't know Padma all that well, so she swam towards the Indian girl and undid her bindings, carrying her to the surface. Padma spluttered as they broke into the air.

"What the? Ilìsa? Since when do you have a tail?" she asked. Ilìsa held up a finger and transfigured her voice-box back to normal before speaking.

"I transfigured it," she said in amusement. "Now hold onto my shoulders – _not_ the neck – we still have a ways to go." Padma hooked her arms around Ilìsa's shoulders and with a few powerful strokes of the merperson-tail, they were off.

They made it back to shore very quickly. Ilìsa handed off a shivering Padma to Madam Pomfrey before tapping her neck, ears and legs, returning them to regular functions and outward appearance. She stepped out of the water and, as she cancelled the warming charm as well, Madam Pomfrey wrapped her in a thick towel and hustled her into a tent.

"What a ridiculous task," the matron muttered. "Sending teenagers into the Black Lake in the middle of winter! I only thank Merlin that you were smart enough to cast a warming charm! Now drink this entire vial and listen to your scores." Ilìsa chugged the potion – making steam come out of her ears – gasped, and then focused on Bagman's shouting.

"AND THE FIRST OF OUR CHAMPIONS HAS RETURNED!" he shouted. "RIDDLE USED A COMPLETE MERPERSON TRANSFIGURATION, INCLUDING TAIL, GILLS, EYES, EARS, EVEN HER VOICE! Upon conferring with the Merchieftaness, Headmaster Dumbledore has learned that she also stopped to end a conflict between a giant serpent and the merpeople's village! Riddle has returned with her hostage in forty minutes! Will the judges please send up their scores!" A few moments later – "I DON'T BELIEVE IT – RIDDLE HAS REPEATED HER FEAT FROM THE FIRST TASK AND ACHIEVED A PERFECT SCORE! MADAME MAXIME WOULD LIKE TO SAY A WORD!"

"Mademoiselle Riddle iz an excellent example of skilled spellcasting," Maxime rumbled. "Attaining ze level of skill required to do such a complicated human transfiguration iz a long and tedious process. Further, we judges find zat for stopping to end a major conflict between two denizens of ze Lake, Ilìsa Riddle will be allowed to start ze third task an extra thirty seconds ahead. Mademoiselle Riddle, j'espère que vous continuerez ce genre d'accomplissement et je vous donne mes félicitations. Merci." Ilìsa smiled widely. The half-giantess was a formidable witch in her own right, but she wasn't blinded by loyalty to her own school. Pomfrey bustled up.

"You can go now, but go straight up to the school and either take a warm soak or hide under your covers for a while," she instructed. Ilìsa nodded and stood just as Vesuvia arrived and climbed up on her shoulders. She smiled at the snake and left before stopping thoughtfully. She conjured parchment and a quill and wrote a quick message.

_Vesuvia, can you bring this to Hermione, please?_ Ilìsa asked. Vesuvia pinched the end of the parchment in her mouth and slithered off, returning a moment later. _Thank you. _She headed towards the castle, grabbed her things, and headed to the prefect's bathroom again. She looked at the little shepherdess in the portrait.

"If I'm in there, can you let only the Head Girl in?" she asked. The portrait thought about it and nodded. "Well, I'd appreciate it very much if you did that. Lemon fresh." The portrait nodded again and swung open and she stepped through as it swung shut behind her and froze. Vesuvia sniffed at the air.

_This place is warm, _she commented. Ilìsa snorted as she dumped her things again and turned on different taps, experimenting with them.

_It should be. This is a bathroom. _The pool filled extremely quickly and she slipped in with Vesuvia still around her shoulders. The snake, too, sighed in contentment as it touched the hot water. Ilìsa heard the door open and looked to see Hermione. She waved. Hermione grinned and told the door not to let anyone in before joining Ilìsa.

"So what brought this on?" Hermione asked. Ilìsa shrugged.

"Pomfrey ordered me to take a warm soak, but that's boring as all get-out, so I asked you to come as well," Ilìsa chuckled. Hermione laughed as well, though it was probably more at Vesuvia, who was poking one of the football bubbles with her snout. Hermione stepped back a bit and took one before throwing it at Ilìsa, who caught it with a surprised look. "Do you play American football?"

"I've tried it," Hermione admitted before wrinkling her nose. "It sucks."

"That it does," Ilìsa agreed. "You have a perfect throw though. Catch!" They played catch until Vesuvia got bored and popped the bubble. Hermione was about to speak when Myrtle zoomed in again. Ilìsa sighed as Myrtle peered at the snake on her shoulders.

"Ooh, that's a pretty snake," the ghost squealed, once again sitting beside Ilìsa and making her feel like she'd dunked her arm in ice-cold water. Then the ghost's eyes narrowed. "I've been trying to figure out where I've seen you before. You look like that Riddle boy! Where's he been? He was so cute…" Ilìsa choked. It appeared Myrtle didn't know who opened the Chamber, which was good, but hearing about a ghost's crush on her father was just awkward.

"Er, he's been around," she replied awkwardly. The ghost sniffled.

"So how come you look like him anyway?" Myrtle asked. "I would have haunted him, but Olive Hornby deserved to get what she got." Thank you Olive Hornby. Ilìsa shivered.

"Um, I'm his daughter," she managed. "Vesuvia, don't snap at Myrtle please." The snake, who had been preparing to do so, stopped. Myrtle peered at Ilìsa.

"Daughter, huh," she said glumly. "It figures. All of the girls ran after him, you know. There were betting pools left, right, and centre on who'd manage to get him." Ilìsa choked again. "Is something wrong?"

"Not particularly, it's just awkward to hear about your father's school days with girls chasing him," Ilìsa gasped. Myrtle giggled.

"Yes, I understand," she said before sidling up closer and in the process making Ilìsa's heart freeze. "So tell me, how is that boy of yours, Harry?" Ilìsa shuddered from the cold.

"Good," she coughed. Hermione noticed and waded up.

"Myrtle, not to be rude, but Madam Pomfrey instructed Ilìsa to have a warm soak and you're making her cold," Hermione said. "Could you move away a little?" Myrtle shrieked in weird anger before zooming through Hermione and up a tap.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Later

"Will all students who obtained an apprenticeship please come and show their contracts to the Ministry official," Dumbledore said at breakfast. "You may go get them if they are not with you right now." Padma giggled.

"Ooh, I can't wait to see the look on the official's face," she said, "After all, you, Hermione and I have world-class masters." Ilìsa nodded, catching Hermione's eye and then Harry's.

"Oh, so does Harry, but his Master's name is staying down for now," Ilìsa said. "Let's all go up now and get this over with." The four approached Percy, who somehow couldn't resist a sneer at Ilìsa.

"You can try, but you can never escape your blood," he sneered. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Then that makes you what?" she asked. He turned red and she extended her copy of the contract. "Now can we please get this over with?" He skimmed through it and gaped.

"But this is impossible!" he shouted, making the entire Hall stare at him and Ilìsa. "Alder has thousands of people on his waiting list, including me! This must be a fake."

"First of all, it is Master Alder," Ilìsa corrected. "And second, that is real. Use your fancy Ministry spell to check if it is legitimate." Percy did so and turned a deeper red as the contract turned a deep green, meaning it was a real one. He grumbled and wrote that down, handing it back, before taking Padma's. His eyes widened.

"M-Master Tarantel?" he stammered. He performed the legitimacy spell and groaned when it turned green as well. He handed that back and took Hermione's. "Switch? Where on earth did you find them?" He noted Hermione's contract as well.

"Oh, they were all gathered at the Ball, alone because the other students thought the younger Masters were better," Hermione sniffed. "Ilìsa spoke with them and took the rest of us along." Percy turned to Harry.

"So, am I to assume you have a famous Master too?" he demanded. Harry shrugged.

"His status, yes, his name, no," he said, handing over his contract. Percy turned white, mouthing the word 'warlock'. He looked up.

"Y-you f-found the l-last w-warlock?" he stammered, making the entire Hall freeze. Harry nodded.

"He appeared halfway through our conversation with a wand to Master Switch's throat," he said dryly, making a few teachers who seemed to know the warlock – namely McGonagall and Flitwick – smile in amusement. "In any case, he decided to test me and appeared in Hogwarts and attacked me. I lost, obviously," he grimaced slightly – "But I did well enough for him and he accepted me."

"Oh yeah, and then you had to explain how you got injured to Madam Pomfrey," Ilìsa remembered, making most of the people in the Hall laugh. Percy muttered something incoherent and handed back the contract before shooing them away. As they walked away, Ron accosted them.

"How the hell did you get the best Masters?" he demanded. "You're You-Know-Who's spawn, you're a nerd, you're a Muggleborn bookworm, and you're the Dark Boy-Who-Lived!" The four looked livid and Ilìsa was on the edge of hexing him a new one when Flitwick and McGonagall interceded, standing between the two groups well aware that the whole Hall was watching the confrontation.

"Mr. Weasley!" Flitwick squeaked angrily, actually furious. "You will retract your comments about my two best students this instant!"

"And the same for Mr. Potter and Miss Granger!" McGonagall said sharply. "That will be thirty points from Gryffindor, yes, from my _own House_, and detention! I have never heard such insults and I hope never to again!" Ron blanched as he saw the two furious Heads.

"I take it back," he muttered. The two Heads dismissed him and he ran off in a sulk. They turned to face the four.

"Don't retaliate!" Flitwick squeaked. "If only because even Poppy might not be able to put him back together again!" He shook a finger at Ilìsa. "She still hasn't managed to fix Mr. Krum!" Ilìsa allowed a small satisfied smirk on her face before wiping it off. McGonagall snorted when she saw it.

"Quite. Now, I believe congratulations are in order," she said with a small smile that was nevertheless the biggest they'd ever seen on her. "You four have in all probability broken a record." Hermione smiled widely; the Gryffindor appreciated McGonagall's approval above all others. Harry was smiling, too, and the two Ravenclaws looked at Flitwick. For a moment, he was still.

"Very well done!" he said suddenly. "I heard from Master Mycroft that you were considering Charms, Ilìsa, and I'd like to say I've never heard him sound so disappointed!" Ilìsa genuinely blushed and professor Babbling walked up.

"Oh yes, you should have heard my brother complaining," she said dryly. "I think, Miss Riddle, that should you wish to take an Ancient Runes mastery after your Potions one my brother will be leaping for joy – if he isn't an invalid by that point." Ilìsa had never been so red and she made a face.

"Alright, enough of embarrassing the student," she said, making all three teachers chuckle. "Besides, as much as I like Ancient Runes and Charms, I'm still much better at Potions. I… okay, not getting started," she said to herself firmly, making the teachers (well, Flitwick and Babbling) laugh outright and McGonagall snort.

"You should probably get to class, considering you have me first," she observed to the Ravenclaws, who jumped and ran off. McGonagall turned to the Gryffindors. "It's Saturday."


	23. Chapter 23

One month later

"I still can't believe you fell for that!" Harry said. Ilìsa scowled. "Then again, I'm still working on believing McGonagall pranked you, but still."

"That's enough!" she mock-whined. "How's your training with McGonagall going Harry, Hermione?" Hermione beamed.

"I've got the entire transformation down!" she said happily. "Professor McGonagall says I was right; I'm an otter, like my Patronus." Harry made a face.

"Luckily, I'm not the same as my Patronus," he said. "No offense to Prongs, but I'd hate to be a stag. Or a deer, which is what it is. I've managed to get the time down to three seconds and my form actually is a golden eagle."

"Surprise, surprise," Ilìsa said dryly. "Fast, keen-eyed, loyal, stubborn, proud, brave, sound familiar?" Hermione laughed as Harry scowled.

"McGonagall says she'll get us to register at the end of the year," he said. Ilìsa nodded.

"That's what the procedure is. Hold on," she looked up at the post owls, "Is that Nox?" The two, who'd she'd let in on the Secret, looked up and saw the black owl circling.

"Yep."

"Oh crap." Nox dropped a letter into her lap and she examined the envelope, recognizing the little 's' on the seal with a mix of happiness and worry. "_Double crap. _Harry, it's in Parseltongue, if worst comes to worst pretend you sent it." He nodded and Hermione turned away to speak with Padma. The two had become regular fixtures at the Ravenclaw table by this point. Ilìsa opened the letter and unfolded it, reading it aloud.

_Daughter, _she read, _as you have guessed by the fact that this is written in Parseltongue, the ritual worked. Thankfully, your blood and that of the Smith boy ensured I returned as myself, not as the mask I wear. You will want to ingratiate yourself deeper with Dumbledore. My Death Eaters are mustering – Karkaroff should come any day now – and he will be worried about your loyalties. Expect a… surprise in the third task. We're going to have a family spat._ She looked up with a strange half-grin, half-frown on her face. "Well."

"Hold on to your seats, because the world is about to be turned upside-down," Harry muttered. "The task is when again?"

"May twentieth."

"Oh Merlin."

May 20th

Ilìsa stood at the entrance to the maze, gripping her wand, knowing that somewhere in there was one heck of a big surprise. Bagman began.

"RIDDLE… YOU MAY…. BEGIN!" he shouted. The crowd roared as she ran into the maze. She didn't have Vesuvia, as for all of the tasks, but she would do well nevertheless. The dark hedges grew behind her, blocking her way back. She tread quickly but carefully, watching with wide eyes. A moment later, her caution paid off as an Acromantula rushed at her. She swore in disbelief before raising her wand.

"_Conflagra Maxima_!" she shouted, causing a huge wave of fire to hit the spider. It shrieked in pain and ran off, burning. Ilìsa panted to keep up the charade of being weaker than she was before running forward.

The maze was… easy, but hard at the same time. Apart from the fact that it was, well, a maze, it seemed the organizers had called in every favour they had with beast tamers. Within a span of what seemed to be about ten minutes, Ilìsa had encountered another three Acromantula, several Blast-Ended Skrewts (Harry had explained them a while ago) and five Boggarts who all, for some strange reason, took the form of Voldemort. She'd had a laugh with them though, imagining what Voldemort himself would think if he saw a Boggart of himself running by with red lipstick smeared on its face or trying to talk but only having chicken noises come out. She shook her head in exasperation and continued, sensing by the gradually darkening hedges and the silence that she was near the center of the maze. She turned the corner and found herself face-to-face with what looked to be a Thestral. It nickered and approached her. Ilìsa smiled; the Thestrals liked her for some reason. She held out a hand and the Thestral snuffled against it, making her laugh.

"What are you doing in here, huh?" she asked it. Its ears swivelled towards her. "Thestrals aren't evil or dangerous, are you now?" It snorted. "Yeah. You going to let me through?" It whinnied and stepped aside. She scratched its nose before stepping by. "See you later."

Ilìsa rounded the next corner and found herself in a clearing, at the center of which there was a very ornate silvery cup. She headed towards it and found Harry doing the same. They looked at each other for a moment.

"Which one of us is supposed to take it?" he asked after a moment. "We're both here." She scratched her head.

"Let's take it together," she decided. "On three. One, two, three." They grabbed a handle each and the Cup glowed blue and whisked them away. They reappeared in a very dreary graveyard. Ilìsa dusted herself off and turned to find Voldemort – without the snake mask – looking at them. "Hiya, dad. You look good." He smiled.

"Well, I should hope so," he said in amusement, "Considering how much work Lucius put into making sure I didn't turn out warped. However, to make Dumbledore confused, we are going to stage a wonderful scene in your memories where I get resurrected as a terrifying snake-monster." The two teenagers had a good laugh before finally managing to stop. Ilìsa wiped a tear from her eye.

"Okay, what do we have to do?" she asked. Voldemort shimmered slightly and reappeared as the 'snake-monster'.

"I hate this look, but whatever," he muttered. He waved his wand and both teens found themselves tied to a stone angel. "Sorry." They both shrugged as much as they could with ropes binding them.

"Whatever. Just do what you have to do." He nodded and Lucius walked up, threw an amused glance at them – to which Ilìsa replied with a scowl – and showed all three a very ugly-looking doll. Ilìsa winced. "If _that_ is what you looked like for most of the year, I feel sorry for you." Voldemort winced as well.

"For good reason," he sighed. "What is going to happen is that Wormtail – the fool – is going to do the resurrection ritual. He doesn't know that I am already alive, so it should work out well. I will merely take the place of the illusion. Mr. Potter, I will act like an overconfident fool and challenge you to a duel. Some minor fireworks later, you both grab the Cup and disappear back to Hogwarts. Clear?" They nodded and he disappeared. "Lucius, go." Lucius disapparated with a crack and Wormtail arrived, picking up the doll reverently. In short order he took some of Harry's blood, some dust from a grave, and then cut off his hand – Ilìsa was glad her father hadn't had to do _that_ ritual – and Voldemort was 'resurrected'. The Death Eaters who hadn't been imprisoned appeared. Amongst them, Ilìsa recognized Karkaroff's mask, but she wasn't going to tell anyone that. Then there was the family 'spat'. Ilìsa was roaring with laughter in her head as she and her father exchanged a large number of insults ranging from 'Dumbledore's foolish follower' to 'you're so embarrassed by how you look you chose to look like you dunked your head in white paint instead'. Then Harry and Voldemort 'duelled', their wands actually did react – which Ilìsa was sure Voldemort had been expecting – and Harry jumped away, breaking the connection, freeing her, and then grabbing the Cup and whisking them away back to the field, where they collapsed in front of the maze in a tangle of slightly bloodied and very dirty limbs. Dumbledore rushed down.

"Harry, Ilìsa, what happened?" he demanded worriedly. Ilìsa looked up, eyes haunted and tear tracks cutting through the grime on her face.

"He's back," she said hollowly. "I knew it. Voldemort is back." The last thing she saw before she fainted – it was quite a good skill to have, fainting on command – was the shocked looks on everyone's faces.

She woke up in the Hospital Wing and groaned. Pomfrey rushed over and checked her over, muttering quietly.

"Good acting. If I didn't know you better, I'd have thought you fainted from fear and exhaustion," the matron said softly. "As it is, I told Dumbledore that. He'll be here to interrogate you and Harry as soon as he hears that you are awake." Ilìsa nodded her head ever-so-slightly and closed her eyes. She actually _was_ sore; part of the charade was Voldemort cursing her. She didn't mind, after all, it was all so Dumbledore would fall – but that didn't make it hurt any less. Ilìsa snorted inside. Here she was in the Hospital Wing, contemplating how skillful her father was at torturing people and herself in particular. It was a bit of an odd situation. She opened her eyes again and saw Dumbledore sitting there, along with half the teachers and what looked like half the Aurors. He smiled sadly at her.

"My dear, can you tell us what happened?" he asked softly. Pomfrey clucked her tongue.

"Albus, the poor girl just woke up, and you're interrogating her already?" she asked in disapproval. McGonagall nodded in agreement – but Ilìsa swore the woman _winked_. Dumbledore looked sad.

"I have no choice, Poppy. The Aurors refuse to believe me – or rather, Cornelius refuses," he said. Pomfrey sighed and waved her hand before leaving for her office. Dumbledore looked at Ilìsa expectantly. She groaned.

"Sorry. Harry and I reached the Cup at the same time, so we decided to take it together," she rasped. "It was a Portkey that took us to this graveyard. When we got there, Wormtail bound us to a headstone and… and he started this strange ritual, with Harry's blood and some sort of dust from a grave – I think he said 'bone of the father' – and his own hand to resurrect Voldemort." She gasped slightly. "He… was not happy with me. He insulted me, got bored of that, Crucioed me, and then turned to Harry." Another tear ran down her cheek. "They started to duel, but something weird happened. Harry's wand and Voldemort's connected, and they made this strange golden net the Death Eaters couldn't get through… I saw a bunch of people come out of Voldemort's wand, one of them looked exactly like Harry, too… Harry broke the connection, untied me, and then took the Cup." She started to cry in earnest now and Pomfrey stormed out of her office.

"That's it! Out!" she commanded. "She's not ready for this sort of thing! Out, all of you!" They all left and Pomfrey turned to Ilìsa, a small smile on her lips. "You know, Tom might have been a better liar, but you have the advantage of crying. Everyone always seems to back off when they make a girl cry. What really happened?" Ilìsa sighed, stopping the tears.

"He's been back for a while," she said. "This was merely to get it established with Dumbledore that Voldemort is trapped inside his snake-form because of the ritual – which he isn't – and to believe us." Pomfrey nodded.

"Well, go back to sleep. I'm sure Fudge will want to interrogate you himself," she said dryly. Ilìsa nodded and curled up on the bed, breathing evenly, and fell asleep.

Pomfrey was right. Fudge arrived a huff. He looked between Ilìsa, who was awake, and Harry who was still asleep, before sitting down next to her. Vesuvia slithered up onto her bed. Ilìsa looked at her and then at Fudge.

"The Headmaster refused to tell me where you were," he explained. "Your snake led me here." Ilìsa smiled slightly and patted Vesuvia's head.

"Well, he was probably worried," she said, "Considering last time he was here Madam Pomfrey kicked him out." Fudge looked amused before looking at her seriously.

"Is it true?" he demanded sharply. "What happened?" She rubbed at her eyes and sighed.

"The Cup was a Portkey," she said dully. "One of Voldemort's loyal servants, Wormtail, used a strange blood ritual to resurrect him. He's terrifying. He wasn't very happy with me; he insulted me, cursed me, and then challenged Harry to a duel. Harry managed to hold him off somehow, untied me, and then grabbed the Cup. That is what happened." Fudge sighed and rubbed at his temples.

"I didn't want to believe it," he said. "Especially not from Dumbledore, since all he ever does is stir up unrest. But still, I just find it so hard to believe…" As if thinking, Ilìsa frowned, then brightened slightly.

"Would it help if I gave you the memories?" she asked. He looked at her before nodding. "I will then. Um, I can't really cast anything – Madam Pomfrey would kill me." He smiled slightly and conjured a small glass bottle. She took her wand and, concentrating on the fake ritual, touched it to her temple. She withdrew a silvery thread and tapped it into the bottle, where it swirled with strange patterns. She handed it to the Minister, shuddering. "I never want to see those again." He patted her shoulder, corking the bottle.

"There, there, dear, I'm sure you'll be fine," he said absently, rising. "Thank you, my dear. You ought to rest now, or your Madam Pomfrey will have my neck." Ilìsa nodded and curled up once more as the Minister left the room.

Ilìsa woke once more to once more to find the Weasleys minus Percy, Ron, and Ginny surrounding her and Harry. Molly immediately suffocated her – or tried to anyway.

"Oh dear, I'm so glad you're all right," she cried before whispering in Ilìsa's ear. "Fudge still doesn't believe you. He thinks Dumbledore implanted those memories. We know they're fake as well, Lucius warned us." She withdrew. "How are you feeling, dearie?" Ilìsa smiled thinly.

"Better. Madam Pomfrey can fix anything," Ilìsa said. Madam Pomfrey shook her head, walking up.

"Not everything. I still haven't found the countercurse to what you used on Mr. Krum," she scolded. "I'd feel sorry for the boy if he didn't deserve it."

"What was the curse?" Molly asked in surprise. Ilìsa whispered in her ear and Molly jumped. "Oh my."

"Rather," Pomfrey said wryly. "Miss Riddle, I would say you are well enough to leave. In case you were wondering, today is the twenty-eighth. I don't know what happened, but you were asleep for days." Ilìsa winced and nodded. "Mr. Potter was released about three days ago, so you should be fine. Off you go." Molly helped Ilìsa out of bed unnecessarily and, while Ilìsa changed, conferred with her husband. She walked back.

"Dear, the Headmaster asked us to take you and Harry in for the summer," she began. "We were planning on taking a trip to North America and we thought you'd like to come along." Ilìsa beamed and nodded. "Well then, we'll see you at your graduation!" The parents left and Bill and Charlie stepped up.

"You, sister, are one hell of an actor," Bill said with a grin. "How's the ring?" Ilìsa raised her hand.

"I found out a few other charms, but I need to figure out the passcodes," she said. "But still, thanks for the epic gift." He grinned and waved before leaving. The twins stepped up with Charlie.

"So, we hear you've managed to get apprenticed to the best Potions Master in the world," he began. "Don't worry, we'll let that stay quiet until your graduation so Mum doesn't kill you out of sheer joy."

"Good. And I don't know if he's the best in the world, but he's definitely in the top three," Ilìsa said with a smile. "And he has a waiting list of, if Snape's information is correct, three thousand eight hundred and eighty-three people who passed his initial exams." Charlie whistled.

"Wow. You sure don't do things halfway. Well, I have to go, seeing as the dragons now love me thanks to your gift," he said, whistling a tune. "They all think I'm far more intelligent than my coworkers. Bye! He left and George spoke up.

"Right. Listen closely, sis. You gotta be careful, Ron is planning something big," he said seriously. "We don't want to pile anything else on your shoulders, but he keeps muttering about 'day zero' and 'graduation'. Thought you ought to know." She made a face.

"Ron can't do shit," she replied, standing to walk out of the Wing. "Honestly. So far, I've been hated by all of England and most of Europe, been Crucioed by Lord Voldemort, and had to calm Harry down when he gets angry. Ron, as I say, can't do shit worse than that."

"Well said," the twins chorused. Fred grinned.

"Well, we have to leave, but see you in about a month!" They ran out ahead of her, leaving her to walk out of the Wing on her own.

Graduation day

"And now we have our valedictorians, Harry Potter and Ilìsa Riddle!" The two walked up to the podium and smiled out at everyone. Ilìsa looked down at her sheets for a moment.

"Now, we could start by going off on a tangent about how 'commencement means beginning' and all that wonderful motivational nonsense that bores people to tears," she began, "Or we could say something meaningful. The world is a big place. Sometimes, things are easy and happy and fun. Sometimes, life drones on in an interminable bore. And sometimes, things get so bad you wonder if they can get any worse, only to find out they can. But at the same time, the world is wonderful. It changes, it varies, you can make it anything you want to be. Marks and OWLs and NEWTs, they are important, but scores aren't everything. You can always change." There was a polite clapping at this.

"Just because someone got a NEWT less, or maybe scored higher, doesn't mean they can't or can do something you can," Harry joined. "I mean, look at me, folks. I've been in the Hospital Wing so many times Madam Pomfrey doesn't even ask what happened when she sees me, I've blown up plenty of cauldrons in Potions and accidentally transfigured myself in Transfiguration, heck, I've gotten a bunch of rather vicious animals angry at me in Care of Magical Creatures. But despite all of those mistakes, all of those bad things, Hogwarts has taught me more than I can say, though I'm going to try anyway. Hogwarts has taught me that blood isn't everything, that nurture usually does beat nature," he gestured at Ilìsa, "-That appearances are deceiving, like Hagrid, who though he looks scary as all get-out – sorry, Hagrid – is a kind-hearted soul who just really likes animals that other people would be scared to go near," Hagrid grinned widely at this – "I've learned that none of the four Houses is perfect – I mean, think about it: Slytherins tend to be a bit… well, cruel, though I'm not saying all of them are; Ravenclaws have a habit of looking down on whoever doesn't know as much as they do, though again, not all of them do; Hufflepuffs – well actually, Hufflepuffs are pretty darn perfect in theory, but they're human, so there we are; and Gryffindor, who people seem to think is the best House, tends to spit out very loud and obnoxious brats." Ilìsa cleared her throat, making the audience laugh.

"Yes, thank you, Harry," she said mock-crossly. "Anyway, before Harry exhibited exactly what problems Gryffindors are prone to have, I was going to say that the same thing can be seen in the real world, on a much broader scale of course. England as a whole is viewed as somewhat old-fashioned from everywhere else; it's the same in the Muggle world. But then again, who are they to say what's old and what's new?" she added humorously, making the audience nod in approval. "What I mean to say by this, however, is that all of these divisions between Light and Dark are a bit, too restrictive, let's say. Some families just naturally have Dark magic – unfortunately, I know that all too well – and some have Light; for some reason, we judge based on that. We have only to look at Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, as an example; see, you shiver uncomfortably already. Sirius had the misfortune to be a thoroughly Light wizard born to a family who for centuries has had Dark children; and as such, when Aurors arrived to find him near the site of the explosion, they condemned him to the Dementors, sans trial. That is, incidentally, what people told me _I _deserved – simply for being the daughter of someone they hate! My message is, in short, judge people by their actions and motivations, not by things out of their control."

"And in doing so, save people from wrongful condemnations. And animals too. Who thought up the idea that snakes were evil? You should have seen Nachtan's face when I told him that," Harry added, gesturing to the snake on his shoulders. The audience giggled slightly. "I'd like to finish this speech by saying, 'everybody has a choice'. As professor Dumbledore seems _very_ fond of saying, it is our choices that make us who we are, not our blood, not our affiliation. If I had Dark magic, but still fought for the Light, people would condemn me simply for my magic, despite my decision. So let's all follow that mantra and judge based on what people choose, not what people are!" The audience applauded loudly as the two stepped down from the stage to resume their places amongst the graduating class. Dumbledore took the stand again, twinkling.

"Well, thank you for the quote, Harry," he chuckled, making the audience do so as well. "But a better message I cannot think of for a speech that represents this graduating class's entry into the world. Now, let the ceremony begin!" They were each called up one by one to take their diplomas. When they had all received them, they threw their hats in the air, caught them – or at least tried to catch one of the many fluttering through the air – and flooded down to speak with parents and friends. Harry and Ilìsa immediately headed for the Weasleys, where they were both suffocated – at once – in Molly's grip. She let them go and hugged Ron before pulling back and looking at him.

"Ronald, we're happy you graduated, but until you accept that Harry and Ilìsa are family now, you're not going to be," she said seriously. Ron turned to them and Ilìsa remembered the twins' warning as she saw the look of glee on his face. She grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him away, just in time to avoid the liquid he threw at them. It sizzled on the grass and everyone screamed. Harry pulled out his wand and promptly stunned Ron even as Ilìsa examined the liquid.

"I think this is magically-concentrated Muggle acid," she said. She heard a flutter of robes and looked up to see Snape peering at it.

"I believe you are right. Had it hit you, you would have been lucky to survive, not to mention horribly scarred," Snape agreed. He saw some of the Aurors Dumbledore had commissioned for security arrive.

"What happened here?" one that Ilìsa recognized, the senior Auror who had interrogated her, asked. Snape gestured to the liquid.

"Mr. Weasley – the one that just graduated, that is – threw a magically-concentrated Muggle acid at Miss Riddle and Mr. Potter," he said smoothly. "As I said to Miss Riddle, had it hit them, they would either be dead or horribly injured and scarred for life." The Aurors blanched and picked Ron up, turning to his parents.

"Is that what happened, Arthur?" the senior Auror asked. Arthur sighed and nodded. "Well, we'll have to take him, then. Let's go." They vanished the acid and took Ron away. Arthur rubbed at his head.

"I'm going to start getting in trouble at work at this rate," he sighed. "There was enough of a ruckus when Ginny cursed you, but this…"

"Is equally bad. I don't think you'll get blamed, though," Ilìsa said. "If Ron gets put on trial and we have to testify – which we might – we'll make sure to say it's not your fault. Which it really isn't." Molly sighed too before brightening.

"We knew he was going wrong, but we couldn't do anything. He hasn't acted like a son should for months," she remarked. "Now off this morbid topic, why don't you go hang around with some friends, dears?" They grinned at her and walked off to find Padma and Parvati arguing fiercely with their father.

"Padma, Parvati, are you alright?" Ilìsa asked mildly. Padma swung around, relieved.

"Good, you're here," she said in relief. "Father doesn't believe us when we say the Dark Lord has returned. Maybe you can convince him."

"Though you'll have to convince me you are who you say you are first," their father said. Ilìsa's eyes narrowed and Vesuvia hissed.

_Shh, I'll handle it,_ she hissed back before turning to the man. "Mr. Patil, if the giant snakes on our shoulders aren't proof enough, will Slytherin's ring do for you?" His eyes widened.

"How do you have the Snake Lord's ring? It was lost to him, as he told Maharani Naheen!" he retorted. Ilìsa smiled slightly.

"The goblins forgot what it was and sold it to a member of the Weasleys, who gave it to me. I figured out whose it was when I realized it was a Basilisk. I will show you, but give me a moment to order it not to Petrify or kill you." She looked down at the ring. _Come alive, but do not kill anyone unless ordered. Especially not these three, they are of the blood of Maharani Naheen._

_Yes, Heir. _The Basilisk started to rise from her finger until it was high enough to bend its neck and look at the Patils. _Fools, to not believe I am who I am! I am Syliss, the ring of Lord Slytherin! _Ilìsa looked up.

"She said her name is Syliss, the ring of Lord Slytherin," she translated. The Patils' father's eyes widened.

"You truly are the Heir of Slytherin. And you say… your father has returned?" he asked. She nodded.

"Not in the manner it was told to the Ministry, not that they believed it," she replied, stroking Vesuvia's head. "He has been fully returned for several months now."

"I will take your word for it," the man said. Then he smiled. "But I will look forward to seeing him once more. I hope you will pass the message along." Ilìsa smiled in return.

"I will indeed, though he will likely be rather occupied for the next while. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Patil. Padma, Parvati," she continued, turning to the twins, "I'm going with the Weasleys to North America for a while, so owls might not work. In case they don't, I'll likely see you when the Masters have their convention later on. Now we have to go, since Dumbledore calling up all the apprenticed people." The two sisters followed them up to the stage again, where Dumbledore was reading the audience a list of apprentices and their Masters.

"… Mr. Terry Boot has been apprenticed to Ancient Runes Master Orphus!" Terry stepped forward and was applauded; Ilìsa applauded as well: Orphus, while not considered world-class, had many achievements in his subject and if Terry had managed to impress him, he deserved it.

"Miss Mandy Brocklehurst has been apprenticed to Arithmancy Master Lesland!" Ilìsa applauded, more for the sake of her friendship than appreciation of the name.

"Miss Hermione Granger has been apprenticed to World Transfiguration Master Emeric Switch!" The audience was stunned for a moment before they roared with applause, making Hermione turn pink.

"Mr. Neville Longbottom has been apprenticed to Defense Against the Dark Arts Master Porter!" Ilìsa clapped now just to keep appearances; a lower-class Master, plus DADA, equals 'I don't like you'."

"Miss Morag MacDougal has been apprenticed to Care of Magical Creatures Master Lawrence!" Ilìsa applauded for real, knowing that Morag hadn't had a better option. She couldn't help but notice that most of the people who were getting apprenticed were Ravenclaws.

"Miss Emilia Moon has been apprenticed to Charms Master Rothland!" Once again she cheered for her friendship, not her approval of Emilia's choice. Rothland was good-looking and witty, but Mycroft was undeniably better; he'd taught Flitwick!

"Mr. Theodore Nott has been apprenticed to Potions Master Jigger!" Ilìsa smiled and clapped for Theo; she'd snatched the better Master, but she knew the genius Theo hid behind his silence. Arsenius Jigger wouldn't know what hit him.

"Miss Padma Patil has been apprenticed to World Arithmancy Master Tarental!" The crowd gaped at this second world-class apprenticeship before cheering wildly.

"Miss Parvati Patil has been apprenticed to World Ancient Runes Master Babbling!" The crowd was stunned and slowly began to cheer. Ilìsa smiled slightly.

"Mr. Harry Potter has been apprenticed to the World Warlock!" Silence. Then one person yelled 'That's bloody awesome!' – Ilìsa suspected one of the twins – and everyone roared in approval. Dumbledore chuckled.

"Miss Ilìsa Riddle has been apprenticed to World Potions Master Alder!" The crowd gaped. Out of all the World Masters, Alder was probably the most famous; he had written half the Potions textbooks in existence and had invented enough potions to fill another five. They cheered and Ilìsa smiled before sitting down.

"Miss Lisa Turpin has been apprenticed to World Charms Master Veridot!" By this point, the audience was cheering continually at the number of World-class apprenticeships. Ilìsa counted on her fingers and counted six. The only World Masters she knew who hadn't gotten an apprentice were Mycroft and Germinus. It appeared Lisa had found another World-class Charms Master somehow. Dumbledore smiled out at the audience. "I would like to say that this year has set a new record! In this single year, a class has achieved six World-class apprenticeships! This graduation will go down in Hogwarts history as a moment to be remembered. Now, if past experience is any indication, our graduating class is itching to go explore the castle one last time – and let off quite a few WWW products, if the looks on Messrs. Fred and George Weasleys' faces are any indication," he added humorously. "Off you go, you have the entire day to go have fun!" The class roared and sped off towards the castle. Ilìsa looked at it sadly.

"I'm going to miss this place," she decided. Snape had been walking by and he snorted.

"When Alder's finished with you, you can take my place, if you like," he said dryly. "You would likely be an infinitely better teacher than I." Ilìsa smiled.

"Well, that's a ways ahead," she said. "You'll have to suffer through another few years of dunderheads for sure."

"I will not comment on the mocking use of my words," Snape said, "Because I doubt taking away points will do much. Now, you have a very impatient-looking Potter waiting for you and you should probably go. They tend to lose their tempers easily."

"This one doesn't," Ilìsa replied before grinning. "Bye." She ran off towards the castle, leaving Snape shaking his head, as many others had done, in a mix of bewilderment, amusement, and irritation.


	24. Chapter 24

Ilìsa looked around at the dormitory. Everything was packed away and it looked bare and alien. Padma noticed her look and sighed.

"It feels strange to think we won't be coming back, doesn't it?" she said. "I really will miss this place. On the other hand, Vector told me that _if_ I get away from Tarental alive, I can take her place." Ilìsa giggled slightly.

"Really? Because Snape said a very similar thing to me, only he said 'when Alder's finished with you, you can take my place, if you like. You would likely be an infinitely better teacher than I.' I was worried one of the Weasley twins was going to overhear and yell 'well that isn't saying much' or something like that. I swear it was them who yelled when they heard Harry's apprenticeship." Padma nodded, closing her trunk with a finality that sobered them.

"It was George," she sighed. "Oh, I just can't believe we have to leave. I can imagine sending my own children off and wondering, 'if I could just see that old castle one more time' as the Express rattled away…" Ilìsa forcibly shook off her melancholy and grabbed her trunk.

"Okay!" she said fiercely. "We have a life to live! We have a great summer ahead of us, and then apprenticeships with World-class Masters! We should be happy! Now let's go say good-bye to the teachers who make this place what it is. I, for one, cannot imagine Hogwarts without McGonagall teaching Transfiguration or Snape yelling at dunderheads in the dungeons."

"You're totally right!" Padma squealed, following her out of the dorm. She looked at the statue of Ravenclaw and bowed. "Farewell, Lady Ravenclaw. You have watched over us for years, now we take our leave with thanks." Ilìsa looked at the statue pensively and bowed as well.

"Farewell, Lady Ravenclaw," she said softly, as if waking something from sleep. "You have stood watch over our efforts to follow your ways and we thank you for our home at this school. May your vigil be peaceful and conducive for thought." Then, to their shock, the statue stirred and looked at her, with a smile on her face.

"You're Salazar's heir, aren't you?" the statue asked. At Ilìsa's shocked nod, she smiled broader. "I always did tell him that his House tended to be similar to mine. Why are you not in Slytherin?" Ilìsa pondered how to answer that.

"Events forced me to renounce it," she said finally. "The Sorting Hat knew that if I was placed into Slytherin, I would have to leave Hogwarts. And so it placed me here, where I fit in just as well."

"You did indeed, rivalling that wonderful Gryffindor who I somehow can't see as a lion," Ravenclaw said. "Tell me, how much do you trust the Headmaster of the school?" Ilìsa grimaced.

"Truthfully? Not as far as I could throw him – and that's not very far at all," she sighed. "He manipulates everyone within his grasp, from students to teachers to friends and family, to worship him and the ground he walks on; only, he does so blindly, like a snake with its eyes burned, and his plots are obvious to those with a bit of Slytherin in them." Ravenclaw nodded slowly.

"I see," she said finally. "Then I shall tell you of an interesting failsafe we Founders designed. Helga was a bit of a Seer, you see, and she foresaw that one day, the Headmaster of the school would not just be biased but indifferent to the welfare of the students. Accordingly, we designed a catch in the law of Hogwarts, under paragraph 3 of page fifty one of the Hogwarts charter, that states that should that happen, the Room of Requirement will furnish to one of our heirs a document allowing them to take control of Hogwarts for so long as it is needed for a new Headmaster or Headmistress to be appointed. Do you trust the Deputy?" Ilìsa pondered that.

"I do," she replied finally. "She is a Gryffindor, but she is equally stern with all four Houses. However, I do not think this failsafe should be revealed unless absolutely necessary as several generations down your heirs could be… malicious. There are plans already in place to oust the Headmaster, though they will take some time." Ravenclaw inclined her head.

"You really are Salazar's," she said with a small chuckle. "Only he would think that far ahead. Well, good luck, little egrets. Your big day has arrived." And with that the statue froze in the same position as before. Padma blinked.

"Why is it that every time you do something normal, something like this happens?" she exclaimed. Ilìsa sighed.

"Let's just go say goodbyse, alright? I'd rather not stay here any longer, it's making me sad again," she declared. The two girls finally made it to the Entrance Hall, where the professors were checking off names of those leaving. Ilìsa walked up to McGonagall.

"Professor, I'd like to say goodbye," she said seriously. "Also, Fawkes told me something rather interesting about a cat's affiliation. You wouldn't happen to know what he meant, would you?" Her lips twitched.

"As a general rule, I can never understand what Fawkes and the Headmaster might say," she replied, "But every now and then I can understand their references. In this case, I do. He meant to say that a cat will go wherever her friends are, even if, once upon a time, that cat's friend was a snake." Ilìsa smiled widely.

"Well, that certainly cleared things up," she remarked. "Goodbye, professor, though I'm sure I'll see you again sometime." McGonagall smiled slightly.

"Goodbye, Miss Riddle, and I sincerely hope you do," she said. Ilìsa smiled once more at her before turning to walk over to Flitwick.

"Miss Riddle!" he squeaked before she could say anything. "If you've come to say goodbye, you must, at least once, agree to cast a Patronus for me!" She had stubbornly refused to do it in his classes. She sighed and did so, showing him the glowing Vesuvia. He looked at it delightedly. "Thank you, my dear. I had been wondering what form it would take. Now then, goodbye!" She chuckled.

"Goodbye, professor," she said to the little wizard. "Don't fall off your chair again." He made a face.

"Considering the way some students practice their summoning charms, I don't think I have a choice," he replied before waving at her as she walked to Sprout. Sprout smiled.

"Well, goodbye, dear," she said. "Though I have a feeling I shall see you again, for now goodbye."

"Goodbye, professor, and I hope next year's first years understand what a good House Hufflepuff truly is." Sprout beamed at this as Ilìsa walked to Snape.

"I'm sure I'll see you again, of all people, but keeping up appearances has its benefits too," she told him. "So, for the sake of everyone who is watching, goodbye, professor." He snorted.

"Goodbye, and the next time I see you, you had better have decided to take my place," he told her in return. She snorted in her turn and waved at him before taking her trunk.

"Well, I don't think I can take another goodbye, so let's tell Flitwick we're off," she said to Padma, who nodded. Flitwick crossed out their names and waved at them as they headed to the carriages, stepped in, and were off for the last time.

Hogwarts Express

"It still hasn't sunk in yet," Harry said. At Ilìsa's raised eyebrow, he continued. "That we're not coming back, I mean. Every year for the past seven years, I'd spend the entire summer waiting for September and every June wishing it was September. It's hard to comprehend the idea of not going back."

"Well, since I only found out about magic this year, I don't have that issue," Ilìsa observed. "But I can see where you're coming from. I went to the same Muggle school from age eight onwards, really as far as I can remember. Even though it was only a day school, when I graduated and went to high school, it didn't hit me until about November of that year that I wasn't going back." The lady with the trolley walked by.

"Everybody feels that way, dears," she told them. "I did too." Ilìsa suddenly realised something.

"You know, we still don't know your name," she said. "That's not right." The lady smiled.

"Well, most of the students don't care, dear, all they want is their candy," she replied. Then she winked. "But, since you asked, my name is Hope Llewellyn. Now dears, would you like anything?" Ilìsa smiled. "A pack of Chocolate Frogs, dear?"

"Unfortunately. Vesuvia's sweet tooth is ridiculous." She paid for the treats and waved as Hope left before turning to Vesuvia. "Vesuvia, some of these are for me. No eating mine." She charmed the frogs to hop about and Vesuvia launched herself after them as Ilìsa snatched a few out of the air. She looked at the cards the snake threw at her and chuckled as she put them with the two she'd gotten.

"What'd you get this time?" Harry asked.

"I appear," Ilìsa said, trying not to laugh as she looked at the four cards, "To have gotten the Founders Four. They've really got Slytherin wrong though." She gestured to the green-clad wizard. "His nose isn't that big, and he certainly didn't have brown hair."

"I believe you," Harry said. "Why don't you change it yourself?" Ilìsa thought about it before correcting the mistakes in the picture. She looked at the now-realistic Slytherin with satisfaction.

"Much better," she said in approval. The picture nodded. "Please don't tell me you're sentient?"

"Another one?"

"What do you mean, another one?" Slytherin asked. "I thought it was a fairly original idea. The only reason I haven't done this before is that the picture was all wrong." Harry cracked up.

"Her father did the same thing until he got his body back," he chortled. Slytherin looked amused and Ilìsa groaned.

"Right then, why did you suddenly possess my Chocolate Frog Card?" Ilìsa asked him. He shrugged.

"Well, the me that inhabits Gringotts is, to put it politely, bloody well bored," he snorted. "So I decided to go here." Ilìsa clapped a hand to her forehead in exasperation.

"Well, are we to be expecting visits from any other Founders? Because I don't think I want to be carrying the four of you around. Your arguments are legendary," Ilìsa asked. Slytherin peered at the other three cards.

"The picture of Rowena is right, so she's probably not going to join us," he said, "But Helga is far too large in that picture. I know she was a very motherly person but somehow that seems to translate into broad." Ilìsa tapped the picture. "That looks like her. If there's no reaction in the next five minutes, I'd say she's decided to stay out of this. Hold on now, who made Godric's hair that ugly shade? It was violently red, yes, but not like that." This time Ilìsa cracked up.

"Sorry, but we have a family we're friends with, you know, the ones I said I had to bail out, and their hair is all violently red," she said with amusement. She tapped it with her wand. "Is this right?"

"A bit more gold and you have it. There it is!" Gryffindor's photo yawned.

"Hello, old chap, how have you been?" he asked. Then he looked around. "Bloody hell, Salazar, you've got descendants? How come I don't?" Slytherin rolled his eyes and Ilìsa interrupted.

"Well, actually, now that I think about it, you remind me of the family we had to bail out," she said, eyeing Gryffindor's hair, which was the exact shade of Arthur's. "It's odd, because they have the same hair and half of them have the same personality." He looked curious.

"What's their surname?" he asked.

"Well, Weasley," she admitted. "Molly's a Prewett, but it's Arthur's hair that matches yours." Gryffindor looked pensive.

"Doesn't ring any bells, either of them," he admitted. "But who cares, really? If they've got my charmer's looks and witty comebacks, they're set and ready!" Ilìsa promptly turned to Slytherin.

"See? _This_ is why I didn't want to get the rest of you four!" she complained. "I'm tempted to send you," she pointed to Gryffindor, "To the twins, they're the pranksters of the family. They'd love you. And you," she pointed at Slytherin, "_Would_ be a cool person to meet with my father if it weren't for the fact that he's very much a commanding person, as are you, and I don't want to think about how bad you'd argue." Slytherin snorted.

"If he's my descendant, then very, very badly," he said. Ilìsa nodded in agreement and Gryffindor spoke up.

"Well, actually, I'd like to meet these twins," he decided. "They're pranksters, you say?"

"Yes. They've opened a joke shop that's currently growing amazingly fast. I wouldn't be surprised if it went worldwide," Ilìsa said. Gryffindor nodded.

"Then I simply must join them," he said with a very familiar grin. "I would love to help out with their ideas." Ilìsa snorted.

"Thank Merlin I'm done with being a prefect, your ideas would probably run me into the ground," she grumbled before turning to Slytherin. "Speaking of worldwide things, I've been apprenticed to a World-class Potions Master, Farrigorn Alder. I think you'd like to meet him." Slytherin nodded, eyes sparkling at the prospect.

"I certainly would. But if this is the beginning of summer, then you have a while to go yet, do you not?" he asked. At Ilìsa's nod, he thought for a moment. "Well, I'll just fall into a sort of sleep. Wake me up in Parseltongue. This way, it won't seem boring to me, which it would seeing as I'm a card." Ilìsa nodded and Slytherin promptly froze in his picture and she whipped around to face Gryffindor, who was in Harry's hand. She pointed at him.

"If I hear _one_ comment about him sleeping, old man, I will trap you in the card and then turn your hair emerald green with snakes in it," she threatened. He blanched. "Now, do us a favour and go to sleep too, will you? We'll wake you up – in English, mind – when we get to the twins." He nodded reluctantly and froze. Ilìsa groaned. "Harry, you keep him for now, I'm handling Slytherin. This is getting ridiculous."

"You're telling me?" Harry asked. "Ugh. Look, we're almost there already!"

"The hell? Were we talking for that long?"

"Apparently so."

"Bugger."


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N:**** Sorry for the mistake with double Christmas chapters - it seems during my mass separating of the original text I labelled each one as two different files. (Oops.) Thanks to GothGirl3030 for pointing it out - I might not have noticed otherwise! Anyway, here's the next chapter, with more to come as soon as I can manage it. **

One week later

It turned out the twins _were _going worldwide. They were opening a store in Wizarding Los Angeles. Molly and Arthur had heard about the place's reputation – which mirrored its Muggle counterpart's – and had decided to go to Canada instead. Upon hearing this, Ilìsa immediately volunteered herself as a guide.

"I don't know any of western Canada, but I can show you around the Muggle parts of Ottawa, Toronto, Montreal, and Quebec City," she told them. "Ottawa and Quebec City are worth going to, the Muggle parts I mean." Arthur had looked delighted and Molly caved. They were now going to Ottawa, Toronto, and Quebec. On the other hand, the only people going were Bill, Charlie, Molly, Arthur, Ilìsa, and Harry, so it was a much smaller group than usual.

"The only thing is, Arthur, don't exclaim every time you see something Muggle, please," Ilìsa said. "It really stands out and there's only so much I can pass off as 'foreign' when you have a British accent. I'll explain things as we go, so don't worry." He nodded. "Okay, that's all I needed to say. We're ready as we can be." Molly had arranged an international Portkey through the Ministry and they each touched a finger to it, holding their luggage, when it glowed blue and whisked them away.

They reappeared in the Canadian Ministry's arrivals area, where they simply walked through the doors and left. Ilìsa looked around and beamed when she realized they were in Ottawa; they'd been planning to apparate to the city but it was now unnecessary. They followed the signs to the change rooms the Ministry had foreseen to provide and all of the Weasleys dressed in whatever outfits Ilìsa had approved. Bill walked free, funnily enough, since his 'outlandish' style amongst Wizarding people was fine in the Muggle world.

"You'll be taken for a punk, but that's all right," Ilìsa told him with a grin. Molly and Arthur stepped out, dressed like regular tourists, and she looked them over. "You two pass." They looked relieved.

"I tend to mess up with Muggle clothing," Arthur said. "It's good you and Harry are Muggle-raised." Harry grinned; he'd decided to play the regular teenager and was dressed in slightly ripped jeans that had confused the Weasleys to no end. Charlie hopped out as well and Ilìsa looked at them all.

"We are one strange, strange group," she commented. "Now, everybody shrink down your luggage for now because we might as well get out into the city right away." They did so and they walked out of the Ministry (or government as it was called here) building. Ilìsa saw the exit to Muggle Ottawa and led them through it. Arthur immediately brightened upon seeing the cars, a fact that made Ilìsa chuckle.

"We should get driver's licenses," Harry commented. "At least in Britain. We have a motorbike, after all." Ilìsa nodded in agreement, looking around and recognizing the area.

"Well, for some strange reason, we are currently in a suburb," she started saying to the Weasleys. "There isn't much to see, as it's purely residential, so we might as well buy some bus tickets and head downtown. Follow me."

An hour and some exclamations of 'oh! This is so interesting!' later, they arrived near Parliament Hill. Ilìsa could tell the Weasleys were intimidated by the crowds and she smiled. If she could manage it, they would be perfectly comfortable in the Muggle world by the end of it.

She managed it. Two weeks of fun later, they easily understood Muggle clothing, Canadian and British Muggle money, and how to use all of the daily things like stoplights and T.V.s. They were packing their things to head back to Britain now, and Ilìsa was surprised to find she wasn't sad about it at all. She felt at home in Wizarding Britain, more so than she ever had in Muggle Canada.

When they returned to England, it was to find a crowd of reporters waiting to attack Harry. Ilìsa rolled her eyes. "Do they always do this?" she asked, gesturing to the milling crowd. He grimaced.

"As much as I hate to say it, yes," he replied. "How are we going to get through?" Ilìsa looked irritated and promptly cast a giant protection charm around them, causing a bubble of force to push the reporters away.

"Like that," she declared. She gestured to the Weasleys. "Come on everybody, let's go. Powerful I may be, but maintaining a solid protection charm for a long time will definitely tire me out." The reporters looked indignant as the bubble moved with the little group, pushing a path through the crowd. Ilìsa turned to face the group of reporters. "Look, listen closely. I don't have anything personal against reporters. On the other hand, both Harry and I have had highly unpleasant experiences in which people of that profession mobbed and then fibbed, turning people who didn't know us against us. So you will excuse us for not responding happily when a large crowd of reporters attacks us when we return from a trip. Good day." And with that, all six of them disapparated. Bill snorted.

"Harry, I have never felt more sorry for you," he declared. Then he thought about it. "No wait-"

"That's fine, I get the idea," Harry interrupted hurriedly, wincing. Molly intervened.

"Shush, Bill," she scolded. "Everybody go get settled again."

One and a half months later

"You do realize we probably won't see each other for the next year unless we both manage to be prodigiously skilled?" Harry asked. Ilìsa sighed and nodded.

"Unfortunately, but we can't change that. You have a big fat war to get ready for and I have a very temperamental Potions Master to look forward to. Though then again that sounds familiar. If I end up sounding like Snape and Alder I'll know there's something in the fumes they're breathing. Now, did you pack everything?"

"Yes, mother," Harry replied. Then he shrugged. "Oberon doesn't want me to bring too much." There were two cracks outside. "They have arrived." The two apprentices hurried downstairs and found both the warlock and the Potions Master tapping their feet against the floor impatiently. Oberon nodded sharply.

"I hope you've said goodbye already, because we're going now," he stated before grabbing Harry's arm and apparating away. Ilìsa looked at the spot where they'd been for a moment.

"Did he just Side-Along through Dumbledore's wards?" Ilìsa asked in confusion. Alder sniggered.

"Riddle, there are no such thing as wards for a fully-trained warlock. They dismantle them easier than you dismantle a cauldron. The only ones that have ever given Oberon troubles are the ones around Hogwarts and Buckingham Palace," he said gruffly. "Have you brought everything?" Ilìsa nodded. "Good. Come along." Ilìsa waved to everyone as Alder apparated the two of them away.

It turned out that Alder had an extensive mansion that he had renovated into the absolute single best place to brew in the world. He chuckled when he saw the shine in Ilìsa's eyes. "Your teacher looked like that too," he snorted. "Genius, that one. I cannot believe Dumbledore coerced him into teaching. The boy's more irritable than a dragon with a toothache." Ilìsa winced and nodded.

"He is," she said dryly. "He told me that the next time I saw him I'd have better decided to take his place." Alder looked at her for a moment.

"You would do better, he has a point," he agreed. "Being a Potions teacher at Hogwarts requires several personalities. Why don't you tell me which and why?" Ilìsa thought about it for a moment.

"Well, for the younger students, like the first and maybe second years, you would have to be kind and gentle, explaining every basic detail as you go along so they get a sense for what works and why," she replied slowly, thinking. "As you go up through the years, third to fifth would require less explanations of basic logic in Potions and more specific things, such as a certain ingredient's reaction to another. Finally, sixth and seventh year would require extremely precise and selective detail, such as the phoenix tears question you used on me, which is rarely used in life but might be at a certain situation." Alder nodded approvingly.

"Try explaining that to Severus Snape," he said wryly. "It took me hours. He's a prodigy, a genius, I'll admit, but teaching is _not_ what I would have him do. Your personality is much more suitable for it, though I'd assume you have your moments as well."

"I told Harry that if I came out of here as snarky and irritable as Snape and you are sometimes that I'll have conclusive proof there's something in the fumes you breathe," Ilìsa snickered. Alder rolled his eyes.

"Right. Get settled, I want to get started immediately. I know very well you have obligations outside of here, so we need to work hard. I doubt you'll manage to beat Snape's time of four months, but if you work at it, you may be able to match it." Ilìsa jumped.

"And that is a compliment right there. Going, going."

Much later

Ilìsa looked at the titles of the Daily Prophets she had accumulated over the past three and a half months. They told of a steadily-approaching war that she knew she'd play a key role in.

_DARK MARK SEEN OVER LONDON, ONE DEAD_

_PROMINENT MINISTRY OFFICIAL'S HOME BURNED, DARK MARK SIGHTED_

_DARK LORD ASCENDING – WHO IS DOING THIS?_

_IS FUDGE WRONG – DID YOU-KNOW-WHO TRULY RETURN?_

_DISSERTATION ON SIMPLE SAFETY – 10 STEPS TO PROTECT YOUR HOME_

And it went on in that manner, all the way to today's, which read '_FUDGE POPULARITY FAILING, WHO WILL REPLACE HIM?'_ in big block letters. Ilìsa shrugged and placed it with the others before grabbing the dragonhide gloves she'd bought what seemed like forever ago and heading to where Alder was somehow already up. She'd played the 'try to wake up earlier than him' game for about a month before tiring from lack of sleep and giving up. Alder had been interested in Vesuvia's venom – she was a new hybrid, after all – and the project Ilìsa had chosen for her thesis was a potion with Veritaserum's ability to tell the truth but that, even when given to somebody who had taken the antidote to Veritaserum, forced them to tell not just the truth as asked but also whatever they had previously been told or thought was pertinent_and_ rendered them completely docile, unlike Veritaserum where its calming effects could be thrown off with great emotion. It was a bit of a morbid potion, but she used the excuse of the war without mentioning just who would be using her final version, which killed with a certain trigger. Vesuvia's venom was a key ingredient, as Ilìsa had noticed that in diluted samples, test animals like mice tended to obey all commands given by their apparent comrades. Alder had trained a few rats to respond to commands like 'sit' and 'squeak' and they were going to test the potion she'd concocted on them today. Alder looked up from where he was eating breakfast.

"You're a slow riser," he teased. Ilìsa rolled her eyes.

"No. You're just permanently affected by all the fumes you've ingested," she retorted, taking a bite out of her toast. She'd noticed that she didn't eat much lately and guessed, correctly, Alder said, that potions fumes tended to slow down the metabolism until it reached the point where a slice of bread and a few greens was enough to last a day. It certainly explained why Snape never ate much; that was a fact all of Hogwarts had observed and most of them theorized it was because he was a vampire. Ilìsa snorted. "You should've seen the headline today. 'Fudge popularity down, who will replace him?'. I mean, no, his popularity's going _up_, whatever are they talking about?"

"You really don't like Fudge," he observed. "I've met him, obviously, but he just acted like a usual politician, nothing more or less." Ilìsa grimaced.

"It's his whole grandfatherly air," she grumbled. "Reminds me of Dumbledore, and that just won't do." Alder had, unsurprisingly, guessed where her loyalties lay within a day, but he honestly didn't give a damn. The man was old and had no reason to care who was in power. He made potions for Light and Dark and neither bothered him out of their respect for his skill.

"Well, Fudge or no Fudge, your mail hit me in the head," he stated calmly, drinking his staple: coffee. He made Snape's temper on steroids look calm until he had a cup of the stuff. He handed her a letter and she chuckled.

"Well, I apologize on behalf of the owl who mistook your head for mine," she said equally calmly before opening the envelope. She read through the letter and smiled. "Turns out Harry's warlock training is almost over. Oberon is slowing down and is apparently pushing Harry harder than he's ever pushed anyone – both figuratively and literally – before. I quote 'the bloody bastard woke me up at one in the morning, told me to do a hundred and fifty push-ups, then read a book and sipped hot chocolate while I did them before telling me to go back to bed'. And I edited out the language. I didn't even know how to write 'fuck' in Parseltongue but I suppose you learn something every day."

"That boy of yours has a sailor's mouth," Alder snorted. "So did you until about a week ago." Ilìsa glared at him.

"I grew tired of having it washed out with that foul concoction you call soap," she spat. He chuckled.

"Well, at least you speak proper English now. Come along, then, we mustn't fall behind. Can't have Oberon finishing before you."

Two weeks later

"Well, I am officially satisfied," announced the examiner. "Zis potion iz as revolutionary asWolfsbane; eet completely outclasses Veritaserum, just as Wolfsbane did eet's predecessor. Farrigorn, 'ow on earth do you keep finding prodigies like zis?" Alder had called in the board of examiners from the International Potions Guild to test Ilìsa's potion on the first day of her fifth month, just as he'd done for Snape. As he'd predicted, she'd matched the dour man but hadn't been able to outdo him. She hadn't expected to, though. She was happy to have been able to do that much. The examiners were exclaiming over her potion now.

"I agree wholeheartedly," another said before peering at Ilìsa. "Have I seen you before?" Ilìsa furrowed her brow, looking at the man for a moment. Then it clicked.

"If you currently have Theo as an apprentice, then yes," she replied with a small smile. "He pestered me until I delivered a sample of Vulcan Diamondback scale." Jigger's eyes widened.

"I'd been wondering where the boy got it," he muttered before snorting. "Well, I am satisfied."

"As am I," declared the third, a vampire who was an expert on all things harmful or will-binding. "It doesn't even need to be refined, as Veritaserum did. It is perfectly functional as it is and, unlike Veritaserum, one hundred percent non-toxic." Ilìsa hid a smile at that. Unknown to Alder – or at least she hoped it was – she had developed a poisonous one as well.

"I, too, believe this to be more than a pass. I nominate Apprentice Riddle for the Platinum Cauldron," said the fourth, a Chinese woman with dark, clever eyes and an impassive face. "This potion is as revolutionary to law enforcement as Wolfsbane was to werewolves and as such its creator deserves the accolades." Ilìsa inclined her head to the woman, whose name nobody but the rest of the board knew, and she nodded back. The other three pondered that.

"I second the movement," said Jigger. "Apprentice Riddle has clearly shown the willingness to further Potions developments by going out of her way to give my apprentice a sample of a new species' scale."

"And I support it as well," said the vampire, throwing an amused glance at Alder, who snorted. "Apprentice Riddle has also clearly shown her aptitude for hard work – seeing as she's Farrigorn's apprentice _and_ managed to create a perfect potion in four months." Everyone in the room snorted in amusement.

"And I finalize eet," said the first examiner, a man Ilìsa now recognized as the Frenchman Antoine Curie – she remembered reading that his family had had a Squib who had become the husband of the scientist Marie Curie.

"So mote it be," they chorused before all except the Chinese woman smiled.

"Well done," Jigger said with a broad smile on his face, "Potions Master Riddle." Ilìsa beamed happily and the others chuckled, this time including the Chinese.

"You would do well to remember, Master Riddle," the woman said, "That the last person to achieve the Platinum Cauldron on their first potion was your teacher, albeit for under a school year. It is good that knowledge is being passed on and as a Potions Master, you must be sure to do your utmost to continue this." Ilìsa nodded.

"I intend to," she replied before grimacing slightly. "I'm sorry, I don't know how to show the proper respect without knowing your name." The woman laughed at this, slapping her thigh.

"She's even better than your last, Farrigorn!" she said, still laughing. She looked at Ilìsa. "For that, I shall tell you. My name is Iris Liu. And before you ask, Suzie Liu is my daughter. She's told me quite a bit about you." Ilìsa blushed and the woman smiled. "Call me Iris. You certainly deserve it after helping my daughter so."

"Eef you don't mind telling us, 'elping wiz what?" Curie asked. Iris sighed.

"Suzie is a Ravenclaw, Antoine. The Gryffindors were calling her and her friends 'nerds' in class. Unfortunately, most Ravenclaw prefects are simply too concentrated on their marks to attend to such a problem. She stayed, told them all about the Ball, told them a very Slytherin way of turning the insult against its speaker, and gave each one a hug before sending them off to bed," Iris said. Ilìsa buried her face in her hands. "If it means anything, I would nominate you as a teacher in a flash."

"Everyone keeps saying that," she mumbled around her hands. "Professor Flitwick heard about that and then proceeded to tell me that I was either a mother or a teacher in the making, and Professor Snape told me, very plainly, that the next time I saw him had better be to take his place teaching." The others laughed loudly before Alder spoke.

"As I said before, I _still_ can't believe Dumbledore managed to coerce the poor boy into teaching," he said. Jigger agreed.

"Severus is a prodigy, an amazing brewer, but he isn't cut out for teaching at all," he agreed. "I don't know why he accepted." Ilìsa fidgeted. Harry had told her what Dumbledore told him about that.

"I don't want to invade Professor Snape's privacy, but then again, Dumbledore already did," she sighed into her hands, shifting them so her chin was resting on them. "He told Harry that Professor Snape, in a moment of teenage folly, he called it, went to support Voldemort. He turned back because of a threat on someone he cared for, but even though they died, Dumbledore still holds it over Snape's head because it's only his word that's keeping the poor man – don't ever tell him I said any of this – out of Azkaban." The others growled.

"I will not stand for this!" Iris flared up after a moment of shock. "No Potions Master, who has proven himself to be worthy of a Platinum Cauldron, is to be blackmailed in such an insulting manner, bringing their opportunities to work their skills to heel! I do not know what I can do, but I will do it! And don't worry, dear, we don't tell him any of this. We're all just as good at Occlumency as he is at Legilimency."

"Short of joining up with Lord Voldemort and bringing the Dark into power in England or somehow convincing him to move to the continent, I'm afraid you can't do anything," Ilìsa sighed. "Or I would have tried it. Even the friends I have – and I assure you they are quite big upstairs – can't do anything about it. Fudge will grasp the opportunity to throw him in Azkaban no matter what the trial shows as evidence that he is 'capturing Death Eaters'." Iris looked shrewdly at her.

"You play a dangerous game, Master Riddle," she said finally. "And it is only after I use a family talent to see one's core that I see the Darkness in yours. Nothing said in these meetings is ever revealed, not even to alter the course of wars, so you may speak safely."

"Wonderful. And please call me Ilìsa, Master Riddle makes me feel old like him," she gestured to Alder, who rolled his eyes, "Anyway, you are quite right, of course. I am still very much working with my father and, unless Vesuvia's senses are mistaken, so is Professor Snape." Iris nodded sharply.

"Well, I remain neutral in all conflicts," she said. "Until a Potions Master gets involved and can't get out. I will visit the Headmaster and inform him of your graduation and award as your would-be guardian if you were underage. While there, I will also complain about how Master Snape's particular talents are missed at the Guild and how much of a teacher you are. It shouldn't take long for him to make the decision to switch you in, especially since he sees it as a way to call in a favour from me later."

"But since you won't explicitly ask him to switch us, you can always refuse," Ilìsa finished. "As much as your daughter is a Ravenclaw through and through, there is no doubt in my mind that you were a Slytherin." Iris nodded.

"And you are correct. Now, if you will all excuse me, I have a Headmaster to coerce into releasing a Master." With that cheerful statement, she flipped up the hood of her cloak and headed out of the room. The vampire chuckled darkly before looking at Ilìsa.

"Your father has not yet asked my people to ally themselves with him, like all of his predecessors," he stated. "Why not?" Ilìsa snorted.

"I am not privy to all of his thoughts; however, in my estimation, he deems it pointless as precedent has shown that your people remain neutral at all times despite most governing bodies' labelling of you as Dark," she retorted. The vampire smiled and clapped his hands.

"Well said, youngling, well said," he said with a smile. "It is people like you who are accepted to change, people who see the world for what it is and do not mind living in it. Should you and that warlock of yours ever wish to see the night, find one of us and ask to see Miasmorel. Good day, everyone." He disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"You do realize that you've just made me nearly have a heart attack?" Jigger asked, shaking his head. "Before this day, I never thought to hear Iris introduce herself, nor to offer her first name, nor to offer aid; nor did I think to hear our fanged judge extend an offer to someone and their companion. You may not know it, of course, but Miasmorel is king among vampires as an alpha wolf is in his pack. My, my, this has been quite a day. Good luck, Master Riddle. And, if you don't mind, tell your father that I, like Iris, remain neutral in such things." Ilìsa inclined her head and Jigger, too, left. Curie peered at her.

"You are ze one Olympe was talking about," he said. "She came back from Eengland wiz a smile on her face. I asked her what eet was for, of course, and she told me zat she had seen a student unlike any uzzer. You have my congratulations, Master Riddle, and as Olympe said, I 'ope you continue making such accomplishments. Until next time, Farrigorn." The wizard walked out and Ilìsa let out a breath.

"I hadn't realized how stressed I was about this until now," she said in amazement. Alder boomed a laugh.

"The look on your face is comical," he said in response to her glare, shrugging. "You should be proud, though. Miasmorel offered that to Severus, as well – I think his precise wording was 'you already look like one' – yes, I know," he said to Ilìsa's choke, "But never did he offer it to the person's love or what have you. You really must have impressed him, and he was older than Dumbledore and I put together when Nicolas Flamel was twenty. And Iris, well, that… you did the right thing, in any case. Severus will likely guess it was you, but my gut feeling is that he will sulk for a while before thanking you in a roundabout and vaguely insulting way."

"That sounds about right," Ilìsa agreed. "You should have heard me and my father. Padma was laughing herself sick. Incidentally, when is your birthday?"

"In a week. Why, do you intend to make fun of my age even more?" he asked archly. She shook her head.

"Nope. I have an early birthday present for you." She took out the Slytherin card and tapped it with a nail. _Wake up, o-noble-ancestor. I'm a great big Potions Master now and you are going to be my mentor's early birthday present. _Slytherin stirred before looking out indignantly.

"What in the name of Rowena's damned eagle do you mean, I am someone's early birthday present?" he demanded. Ilìsa sniggered.

"Sorry, o-noble-ancestor, it was a joke," she replied before turning to Alder as Slytherin spat 'don't call me that'. "This is, obviously, a Chocolate Frog card of Salazar Slytherin. However," she continued, ignoring Slytherin's rant, "It turned out the picture they had was very faulty and after I fixed it, Slytherin decided to possess it. He wanted to meet you." She turned back to the card. _WILL YOU SHUT UP ALREADY? _Ilìsa shouted in hisses. It made her throat hurt. _I meant that Alder will be delighted to meet the great and mighty Slytherin, now stop acting like a five year old and say hello!_

"Well, you should have said so," Slytherin said smugly before turning to Alder. "Greetings, Potions Master Alder."

"Greetings, though I don't know if they had that title back when you were around, so you'll excuse my probable disrespect," Alder replied. Slytherin snorted.

"Alright, he passes," he announced. Ilìsa rolled her eyes and handed the card over.

"I have to get away from him," she explained. "I _would_ have brought him to meet my father but that would end in a large explosion and the same thing tends to happen with me since we all have the exact same temper." Alder nodded in amusement as Slytherin huffed and left the picture. He slipped the card in his pocket.

"Well, thank you anyway. Now, you can stay here until Iris returns with news."

"Thanks."

Two days later

"Farrigorn? Where are you?" Iris shouted. Alder sighed.

"Go talk to her, would you?" he said, yawning. Ilìsa smiled smugly at him.

"You shouldn't have tried to rise earlier than me for so long," she told him. "Considering I am very much a snake and wake up at five." She headed to where Iris was standing impatiently. "Sorry, Iris. He's tired out from a petty competition."

"Why is that not surprising?" she muttered before brightening. "You'll _never _guess."

"What, Fudge is actually married to Umbridge?"

"ACK!" Iris choked, making the first undignified sound Ilìsa had heard from her. She glared. "If you value your fingers, never say that again. In any case, Dumbledore has sent me along," her voice turned sour here, as if she wasn't pleased about being a messenger, "With an offer for you to take Severus's position on the staff. I believe his exact wording was 'Why, why hadn't I thought of that? Ilìsa would make a wonderful teacher'. If you're interested, you're to be at Hogwarts in," she checked her watch, "Twenty minutes." Ilìsa pinched the bridge of her nose.

"You stopped along the way, didn't you?" she asked dryly. "Never mind, I know the answer. But thank you anyway."

"You're very welcome. Now I'm going to go tease Farrigorn, if you don't mind, so you should be off. In better robes than those," Iris specified as she passed. Ilìsa sighed and went to change. That done, she walked to where Iris was munching contentedly on Alder's toast.

"As always, the midget gets her way," she said with a small smirk. Iris glared before shrugging in acceptance of the truth. "I'm off."

"Go, maybe you'll get out of my hair," Alder grumbled. Ilìsa turned to leave but threw one last parting shot.

"You don't _have_ hair, Master Alder!"

"BRAT!"


	26. Author note

**A/N: I'm back folks! (My laptop is now named Frankenstein, as it has returned from the dead once more.) And don't worry, there's a backup this time - I've definitely learned my lesson.**

She apparated to the gates of Hogwarts and smiled up at them. She really had fallen in love with the old castle that seemed to have a personality of its own. She peered further and saw Snape standing out there. Crap. She walked up and he greeted her.

"I am not sure whether to be thankful, irritated, or furious," he informed her. "How on earth did Iris know I was being held by blackmail?" Ilìsa shrugged.

"Perhaps she asked someone," she replied as they walked up to the castle. "You see, the Headmaster has a habit of spilling people's private lives to everyone he believes will support him." Snape's nostrils flared in irritation before he nodded.

"Then I will settle for being thankful I am getting away from the – do _not_ mock me – dunderheads that are the children here. You are infinitely more patient than I," he said. "Though how that happened is beyond me, considering that the Slytherin line tends to have a habit of blowing up spectacularly."

"Indeed it does. You would probably have laughed if you heard the arguments I get into," Ilìsa said dryly. "Arguing with the Weasley twins on which one is a better prankster is… indescribable."

"I should hope so. I never want to hear about it," Snape retorted. "In any case, how did you survive Alder?"

"I told myself every morning not to turn out like you," Ilìsa shot back. Snape thought about the idea for a moment before he actually chuckled.

"Unfortunately, I can see your point," he said with a smirk. "Have fun. The Headmaster is waiting." They had passed through the halls by this point and he turned to the gargoyle. "Treacle Tart." It sprung open and Snape swung to face her again. "His fascination with alliterative candies and confections never ceases to amaze me. Goodbye." He swept off and Ilìsa shook her head before stepping onto the stairs.

Dumbledore called her into the office cheerily and she sat down in front of him, wondering vaguely if this was going to be a generational repeat of her father's interview and hoping not.

"Congratulations, Ilìsa," Dumbledore said with the usual twinkle. "You tied Severus, I hear." Ilìsa made a face in irritation.

"Master Alder was most insistent I not ruin his perfect score," Ilìsa replied sarcastically. Dumbledore chuckled at this.

"He always did seem very impatient," he agreed, unsticking two lemon drops. "Now, that odd cloaked woman from the Guild stated that you would be a good teacher and I'd like to hear your opinion." Ilìsa shrugged a little before smiling.

"In all honesty, the professors kept saying that," she told him. "At that point, I wasn't sure whether to be pleased or annoyed. I've decided on pleased, though, because after a while with Master Alder I realized that teaching Potions is, for me personally, much more interesting than brewing them. I mean to say, Professor Snape, for instance, is heralded as a genius by just about every member of the Guild, and they constantly bemoan the fact that he is teaching as it holds him back from applying that genius. I, on the other hand, I am not so… _creative_, I suppose you could say. The idea of teaching appeals to me far more than creating. And before you ask, I talk so properly because Master Alder has an infuriating habit of washing out the mouths of his apprentices with a foul excuse for soap whenever they say something he deems impolite." Dumbledore laughed outright.

"I did always wonder why Severus spoke so formally," he admitted. "This rather explains it. Well, considering Severus has been wanting to return to the Guild for a while, I will gladly offer you his position." Ilìsa beamed – it was actually genuine. She _had_ realized that teaching would fit her best.

"And I will accept it equally gladly," she told Dumbledore before reaching up to feel her cheeks. "I haven't smiled for a while since Master Alder is rather more fond of a thoughtful frown. I do believe my face has grown unused to the exercise." Dumbledore chuckled again.

"Well, you shall have plenty of opportunities to retrain it," he said in reply. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Riddle."

Down in the dungeons, Snape felt the castle inform him of the change and, in the privacy of his quarters, he leaped into the air with a triumphant cry before stopping and wondering what in the name of Merlin had come over him. Then he shook off the thought and began readying to return to the Guild, where he would be able to test out the five thick notebooks of ideas he had written down while forced to remain a teacher. The Guild was going to be euphoric when they saw some of them; he'd had ideas on how to solve the greatest problems they had ever faced and he was going to solve them.

"And here comes Minerva, right on time," Dumbledore said. The door opened to let McGonagall in. She smiled at Ilìsa.

"As I have said before, I believe congratulations are in order," she said. "On, what was it, attaining the rank of Master, earning a Platinum Cauldron, and becoming a teacher? You certainly don't do things halfway." Ilìsa's lips twitched before breaking into a full-blown smile.

"People have said so. Many, many, times."

Two days later

Ilìsa looked over the existing lesson plans for Potions before reluctantly admitting Snape was tying Binns for worst teacher in history. It wasn't his fault, he had obviously done his best, but geniuses tended to be snappish, irritable, and impatient when students didn't understand their work. He wasn't meant to be a teacher. She pulled out a quill and parchment before dipping it into the inkwell and starting to write a new syllabus entirely. She was going to have to condense the basics for the older years, but she could start nearly fresh with this year's first years; after all, they hadn't had much time to fall behind. A few hours passed and she looked up when McGonagall walked in.

"Hard at work, I see," the professor said in amusement. She looked at the large pile of crumpled parchments. "What on earth are those?"

"The old lesson plans," Ilìsa answered with a chuckle. "I'm currently halfway through writing new ones for the fourth-years." McGonagall looked impressed.

"That is speedy work," she said. "May I see one of the first year plans?"

"Be my guest, they are the ones bound with the blue," Ilìsa said, brow furrowing in concentration as she wrote a note on the edge of the fourth year plan. McGonagall opened the booklet and read through it with interest. "As you can see, I refuse to allow them to brew a thing until they at least understand the different basic types of ingredients such as acidic, neutral, and alkaline," she said, flipping onto another page of parchment to write the next one. "If they can understand that, then they will also begin to understand _why_ certain ingredients react the way they do and hopefully that will prevent most of the explosions that seem to dog Potions classes."

"I see," McGonagall said, replacing the syllabus. "I do not wish to disturb you any further, but there is a meeting in the staff room as we must appoint Severus's successor as Head of Slytherin. I do not know what the Headmaster means to do, seeing as for the third time in Hogwarts history there are no Slytherin teachers, but we shall see." Ilìsa placed the deep blue quill Harry had gotten her down and followed McGonagall up out of the dungeons to the staff room, where they both took their seats as Dumbledore walked in as well.

"Well, I assume you all know why we are here," he said in amusement, "We are in a bit of a pickle, as the Muggles say. We need a Head of Slytherin House, yet for once, we have no Slytherin teachers. Therefore, our only choice is to have the Sorting Hat decide which of all of the teachers is the nearest to Slytherin." He pulled out the Hat and sat it on the stool, where it turned to look at each of the teachers.

"Why does this keep happening?" it rasped. "This is getting ridiculous. In any case, my choice is obvious. The most Slytherin amongst you is the one who replaced the Head of Slytherin." Everyone looked at Ilìsa, who narrowly avoided turning red.

"That is to be expected," Flitwick squeaked. "After all, you were the one that gave the advice to the Ravenclaws that now has them outwitting those who insult them!"

"And what advice was that?" Vector asked. Ilìsa shrugged.

"I told them to take the insult and use it against whoever spoke it," she explained. "The Ravenclaws tend to be called 'nerds', so I told Suzie – oh bother, Miss Liu, that if someone called her that, she could reply 'if you call me a nerd, therefore you find me more intelligent than you by comparison, so thank you for the compliment'. I assume it worked."

"It certainly did," Flitwick replied. "They never seem to apply it to other insults, but I think it is proof enough." Dumbledore looked amused and, to Ilìsa's mild surprise, pleased at this.

"As always, we abide by the Sorting Hat's decision," he said humorously. The Hat huffed a 'I should hope so!'. "Quite. Ilìsa, I do believe you have broken yet another Hogwarts record." Ilìsa grimaced.

"Wonderful, I needed to know that," she said, making the other teachers laugh. "If I had to guess, most of the Slytherins will refuse to acknowledge me because I was a Ravenclaw. I am actually tempted to put on black robes and scare them all, but that would not be beneficial. In any case, I will simply outwit them. And perhaps call in Draco Malfoy, but that's a last resort." They laughed again and Babbling sighed.

"Severus was lucky there was someone ready to take his place," she said. "I feel older than I have any right feeling. If your friend Miss Patil earns her Mastery any time soon, do you best to convince her to take my place, will you?" Ilìsa chuckled.

"I will see what I can do," she said in amusement before looking at the clock. "Unless there is something else, would you excuse me? I still have three and a half year plans to write. Thank Merlin it's only a one-time thing or I'd quit this profession faster than you can say 'quicksilver'." Dumbledore chuckled.

"No, that is all that had to be cleared," he said. "Everyone is free to go." Ilìsa stood and made her way to the door when the Muggle Studies teacher, Charity Burbage, intercepted her.

"Now I am merely curious," she said, "But I did always wonder what happened to Sirius Black's motorbike." Ilìsa snickered.

"Arthur fixed it up and handed it off to Harry," she replied. "I don't know if he's tried it yet, but he will eventually." Burbage nodded.

"That was a singularly amazing piece of charmwork," she said. "I did always wonder how Sirius worked out how to make it fly."

"He probably asked Arthur," Ilìsa replied dryly. "I seem to recall hearing about a flying Ford Anglia." McGonagall snorted.

"Yes, which was then driven into the Whomping Willow," she commented. "I believe it is still driving around the Forest somewhere."

"Well, the species count has gone up by one, who knows, maybe we can continue to enhance the wildlife," Ilìsa said with a straight face. "Excuse me." She headed off into the dungeons once more and thanked the strange resistance she had to cold.

_Cast the warm magic on me, _Vesuvia asked. _It is cold down here._ Ilìsa chuckled and quickly cast a warming charm on the snake, who relaxed contentedly around her shoulders. Vesuvia appeared to have inherited the Stoneback's resistance to temperature – neither heat nor cold harmed her – but also the Fireback's love of warmth. In short, she was being spoiled. As soon as Ilìsa made it to what the hours she'd spent in it had made her think of as her office, the snake slithered off her shoulders and curled up next to the fireplace, which the elves had lit up. Ilìsa suspected Mopsy but threw off this train of thought and returned to writing lesson plans in shimmering silver ink.

Another two hours later, she cracked her neck and set down the quill, assembling the seventh-year syllabus and binding it with green thread before tossing it on top of the stack of them. So far, she'd eaten in the office, thanks to Mopsy, and she assumed the students still had no idea Snape was gone as she'd arrived halfway through the winter holidays. She suspected McGonagall was refraining from announcing this because of the parties Gryffindor was inevitably going to throw. Ilìsa was about to call for Mopsy again when McGonagall walked in once more.

"I believe it is about time you joined the High Table," she said wryly. "The students, while not curious, will remain oblivious no longer." Ilìsa smiled slightly; she did rather appreciate the stern teacher's type of humour. It was sarcastic, but not insultingly so.

"As you evidently wish they would, but yes, I happen to agree," she replied, making the elder professor smile slightly.

"If there was any doubt about your being the most Slytherin of us all, it has long disappeared," she said. "The Headmaster will announce you. He does like his dramatics."

"Unfortunately for those that don't," Ilìsa agreed to the unspoken line as they walked across the Entrance Hall. McGonagall walked in and she waited outside as she heard the Hall, which was unusually full for the holidays, quiet.

"Students," Dumbledore said, "I have one announcement to make. Professor Snape has decided to return to the Potions Guild-" He was interrupted by a loud cheer.

"You are lucky the teachers are in a holiday mood, or that would have cost you points," McGonagall said frostily, not sounding at all festive. The cheer cut off rapidly.

"Quite. In any case, replacing Professor Snape, we have Professor Riddle!" Ilìsa walked in and headed up to the Head Table, ignoring the stares she was getting from the now third year Ravenclaws in particular. She sat down as Dumbledore spoke again. "In addition, the Sorting Hat has judged Professor Riddle as the best candidate for Head of Slytherin House and she will be taking that position as well. Thank you." Dumbledore sat down and Ilìsa dutifully ignored the glares she was getting from most of the older Slytherins. Dinner ended, finally, and McGonagall leaned over.

"I would suggest speaking to the Slytherins now," she advised. "Impress the few that are here, they will support you when the bulk returns." Ilìsa nodded and stood.

"That is good advice, and I thank you for it," she replied before sweeping off. McGonagall watched her exit and turned to Sprout.

"I thought only Severus could make his robes billow like that, but it appears I was mistaken."


End file.
